


Moment of Truth

by wickedrum



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Emetophilia, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 22,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5291627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set: Post-TBOTFA, Thranduil drinks too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bucket to Pail

Disclaimers: Unfortunately I don't have a Lee Pace. Not the original, and not any of his characters. Written for enjoyment only.  
Genre: Hurt/Comfort. Sickfic.   
Pairing: Thranduil/Tauriel friendship.

Chapter 1: Bucket to Pail

Tauriel found that doing nothing was torture. Weeks have passed since the remains of the sorely decimated elvish army has returnaed from the battle under the mountain and the redhead was still to hear from the king in regards to what he wanted to do with her as a result of her latest and gravest insubordinancies. At first, not having been dealt with didn’t bother her. It was convenient that everybody left her alone and she didn’t have to trouble herself with explaining her deeds or talk to anyone, that she could get on with her grief. It’s not as if anyone there could understand her love for a dwarf and pardon her previous rebellious behaviour. But at some stage, the pain got so unbearable that Tauriel felt like she had to do something to escape it. Yet it took her another few days to start venturing out her room and discover that indeed, she had been prohibited from leaving the Elvenking’s Halls and not just from resuming her guard duties. At a loss as to what to do with herself, the elleth would’ve rather preferred to be treated as a prisoner and made to work for her lembas and keep. Maybe this exactly was her punishment, to sit idle, Thranduil would’ve known it would be agony for someone with her usually active lifestyle and the exact situation she was in. But weeks turned into months and eventually, she couldn’t take the isolation and her own melancholy driving her to questionable thoughts and marched up to the Elvenking’s rooms, having not found Thranduil or anyone for that matter in the throne room. 

Galion was sited on a stone seat just outside his master’s bed chambers, polishing the king’s silver coloured boots and looked up rather probingly at her, “what’s the rush, elleth?” He raised quizzical eyebrows at her, pointedly obvious he didn’t address her by the title she had been used to in the guard. That probably didn’t belong to her anymore now either, she contemplated. 

“I would like to request an audience with His Majesty, if I am allowed,” Tauriel started courteously, keen to keep in the good books. 

The servant shrugged, “there’s nothing to suggest you’re not allowed,” he established, then dipped the cloth he was polishing with in some liniment that helped make footwear shinier, going back to his work, dismissive of her presence. 

“May I go in then?” She probed, “shouldn’t you ask him or let him know I’m here first?”

“If I go in there, he’ll demand I refill his carafes with more wine and we wouldn’t want that, would we? I’m under strict instructions from the healers to limit his consumption as much as it’s elvishly possible.” Galion announced glibly as if it would’ve been common knowledge and it had been foolish of her to ask. 

“The healers are trying to have the king drink less?” Tauriel cogitated the information. It was a lot to take in, other elves attempting to make their king do different than how he pleases. In general, it wasn’t done or accepted. “Why?” The question became inevitable, “is he unwell?” It sounded like the only logical explanation. 

“You could say that,” the brunet provided unhelpfully. 

“Had he been injured?” The elleth guessed. Elves didn’t get sick, not unless it was poison causing it or they became susceptible to illness due to being close to fading away. 

“I drink a lot.” Galion announced. “But I drink for merriment and elation. He drinks for sadness.”

Tauriel stood motionless, puzzled. It wasn’t very clear what was going on with Thranduil, but it didn’t seem like Galion would be much likely to reveal any more. “So you don’t mind if I step in?” 

The long time personal servant looked her up and down, “your swords were taken, no? You’re not permitted any,” he looked like he was checking, “well, I don’t recommend going in there without anything to defend yourself with.”

The warning sent a chill down her spine, “is he still that angry with me?” She wondered.

“That, I don’t know. What I have is working experience on how to get out the way of his mood swings, which you don’t,” Galion held.

Tauriel took a deep breath, “I will take the risk,” she reached for the door handle. Anything would be better than her current situation of going slowly insane.

Tbc


	2. Incomprehension

Chapter 2: Incomprehension

“My Lord?” Tauriel decided to make her presence known with the uncharacteristically timid and concerned words. 

It was unnerving how Thranduil didn’t even seem to have noticed her stepping in or standing there for a while scrutinisingly. Pale and with his eyes glassed over as if in a different world, he raised his chalice to his lips with shaky, uncoordinated fingers, his head seemingly swimming too as he leaned forward to help himself to the next measure of alcohol. For an elf to be this drunk, it had to have been huge quantities he would’ve imbibed, some of which had clearly stained his robes and yet he had no care for his appearance, with long blond tresses that looked like they’ve not seen a brush for days. Mouth lying agape, she stood there astonished at the state he was in before she got herself together enough to step up close and try to attract his attention, “Your Majesty.” She addressed him softly, as if talking to a child. “Is there anything I can help you with?” She offered, her original intents for coming to see him momentarily swept aside by the instinct to aid her king. 

He raised his head to gape in her vague direction, but his eyes remained hazy and his expression blank to the extent the elleth felt the need to specify, “My King, you don’t look well. Shall I call for Galion to help you to bed?” The foolish servant was outside, too scared of Thranduil to stand on alert. But then again, he probably had to deal with the king being like this for days at least. 

Thranduil stared at her for a long while with half lidded eyes, chin dropping slightly before he shook himself to a sharper awareness at last, just in time afore the redhead was about to decide he was in no shape for any conversation. He stood abruptly, both palms splayed on the desk in front of him to keep him steady, “Tauriel! Tauriel, Tauriel, Tauriel!” He expressed anger by shoving books and pens and letters off his desk in a flurry of motion, making her step backwards mortified before he flopped back into his seat, face buried behind a hand. “What do you want? Regular diplomatic correspondence with Erebor?” He moaned sarcastically, rubbing his temples. 

“It would be none of my business to ask such a thing,” she responded quickly and defensively.

“Damn right it isn’t!” Thranduil boomed again, mood swinging like a yo-yo between angry outbursts and quiet, apathetic moments. He reached for his chalice, downed it, and poured it full again, just to down that too in quick succession. 

“I do not want to aggravate you with my presence, My Lord,” she regarded him distraught, more concerned about the state he was in, rather than what he was intending to do with her in his anger. “If you so wish, I will leave, at this very moment.” 

Thranduil banged down the empty chalice, making her flinch, “if I so wish? Playing obedient today, are we? Well then,” he gestured towards the empty wine carafe, knocking it over in the process, “bring me more wine.”

Tauriel blanched, understanding fully now why Galion wasn’t present. But she wasn’t some insignificant domestic help who never dared to voice what was right, “your healers forbade it, My Lord. You are too unwell for it.”

Instead of the next outburst Tauriel anticipated, Thranduil leaned forward, whispering conspirationally, “can you go to the forest and bring me something better? Lissuin flower nectar instead?” 

The redhead shook her head, “I am prisoner of the Halls on your order, My Lord,” she reminded him. Not that she would willingly bring him no recreational hallucinogenic plant extract.

The outburst was still pending. “Can you bring me Legolas then?” He spat at her in a mocking, teasing voice. “Can you bring me peace of mind? Relief from guilt? My wife?”

Tauriel bit her lips in desperation and swallowed against her own guilt. She had rejected Legolas in a way he couldn’t stand being in her company countrywide no more. “I can bring you none of those things, you know that My Lord, but I can be here for you, whatever else you need,” she frowned, knowing it wasn’t much she could offer, “you have got to stop drinking, it won’t help,” she advised. 

“It helps,” he slurred, rage completely drawn out of him by the exhaustion that weighed on his limbs. He leaned his head on his hand and closed his eyes, “I just need a little more to fall asleep.”

The redhead nodded, glancing towards his poster bed. Perhaps letting him sleep by any means would be beneficial, “let me help you to your bed,” she offered, not confident in his chances to make it there by himself without falling over, “we’ll settle you in, and if you still need some wine to aid you falling asleep, I will get it myself personally.”

Thranduil took some time to give indication that he had given her any consideration, but then nodded approvingly and categorically, ending it in a moan as the movement sent off sharp shooting pins inside his skull, “my head pains me,” he complained.

“I wouldn’t be surprised by that,” Tauriel offered, rounding the paraphernalia lying tossed to the floor and arriving by his side at the other end of the desk. “Can you stand?” She placed a comforting hand on his arm.

Thranduil took some deep breaths and raised his head slowly, eyes closed still while he psyched himself up and rose out the seat, using its arms as support. Tauriel moved close in without being asked or given permission, one hand behind his back to steady him and one gripping his arm steadily for support. They stood for a moment, waiting while Thranduil swayed and struggled to gain balance, something he could apparently only achieve by leaning onto her more. Tauriel readjusted her hold to his need and he finally initiated a few steps forward till he stopped again, looking lost without any furniture to hold onto close by on any side. His breathing quickened, somewhat panicky, “my stomach hurts.”

Tauriel felt at a loss herself at that, she was way out of her depth nursing an indisposed elvenking, “let’s get you to lie down first. Should I call the healers?”

“Audacious!” Thranduil grunted his displeasure and the redhead couldn’t tell whether he meant the comment for her or the healers, but she gathered as much that calling for help was undesirable. He pushed her away too and Tauriel thought he must’ve been intent on making it over himself and keeping some of his poise, but Thranduil steered in the wrong direction, grabbed onto a commode and leaned forward to spew without any warning to her, in a thick and almost continuous cascade of foul red, probably the amount he had been drinking for the last few hours, a large puddle that would give the servants a hefty job to clean out the rugs. 

The suspended guard was at a loss at what to do again. Part of her wondered whether she should disappear and pretend she never saw what happened, give the king his dignity, otherwise she wondered how she could even get round the quickly growing indoor pond. The liquid was leaving him in a thinner streak now and he seemed to struggle with it, keeping his hold on the furniture in a knuckle whitening grip, knees wobbly, other hand rubbing at his own belly chaotically, as if not sure what he was doing. His face, under the sweat, was taking on a greyish colour, but what made her act at last was the whimperish noise that left him in between disgorging and trying to catch his breath. Tauriel grabbed a chair swiftly, pushed it right behind him and snaked her hands around him to manoeuvre him onto it.

There were no objections from the king, he was just leaning forward with his head almost at his knees, moaning and swallowing. “There’s room, just open your legs if you need to throw up more,” Tauriel assured him. “Tell me if you’re ready to move,” she advised and stepped back a bit, giving him space. She only watched as he forced himself to take deeper breaths and straighten up somewhat, even though it was obvious it was causing him pain. 

Tauriel shook her head in disbelief, “whatever had happened to you, Sire?” She whispered, not expecting an answer. 

“I can’t…” He started, needing to swallow again. He didn’t act drunk anymore, only pained.

“Take your time,” Tauriel encouraged.

“I can’t live like this,” Thranduil finished the sentence, “a life without loved ones near, is no life at all.”

It was Tauriel’s turn to swallow. Another brutally honest moment between them. They were starting to make a habit out of it. And she knew that truth he voiced as much as he did. “Legolas will return, My Lord.”

Thranduil nodded at that, not willing to elaborate more. He didn’t think he could find it in himself to wait a long time, but his remaining pride kept him from articulating that, although it was probably obvious. His reverie over his own state kept him from bodily sensations for a moment, so the next bout of stomach cramps surprised him. He gasped, eyes closing, head swimming with the disorientating pain. He grit his teeth to ride it out and found strong, lithe arms around him as the skilled archer steadied him and did not let go till he opened his eyes. 

“My Lord,” Tauriel started very seriously, “I would very much prefer if you’d let me take you to bed and allowed the healers to be called. 

Thranduil leaned his forehead against her chest, all his strength having left him. What was there to keep up pretences for? “Do as you think best,” he moaned, knowing he was past the stage alcohol would be beneficial for the time being.

Tbc


	3. Equivalent

Chapter 3: Equivalent

“My King,” Tauriel felt the need to address him, prod him and take his hand in hers for the hope of some sort of response. 

He had been nothing but pliant, limp and compliant since he verbally accepted help and the healers haven’t arrived yet. The elleth stayed with him after her and Galion dragged, hauled and supported the elvenking to his bed and was looking at him puzzled and apprehensive, “what hurts? What is the matter? Please tell me what’s wrong?” She leaned closer intently.

Thranduil heaved a sigh and turned his head slightly in her direction without opening his eyes, “how is it you don’t know Tauriel?” He complained. 

“Your Majesty, I don’t.” She fretted, uneasy and blaming herself for it. She now had his hand in both hers and squeezed encouragingly, “but if anyone can get through it, I know you can, you are the strongest, most resilient, and persevering elf I ever met, considering all the hardship you’ve been through and the enemies you’ve faced with limited resources.”

Even with his eyelids closed, it was clear he was giving her the eye roll. But he stayed otherwise motionless. His hand, he didn’t pull away etiher. “That was the past…the past when I had something to live for…” He indicated quietly. “I had my wife to fight for, battle my way out for and when I didn’t anymore, I still had Legolas…”

“Please don’t say that,” Tauriel was horrified. She had no idea how the proud and arrogant ruler she knew only months ago became this hopeless pile of bones, wretched, sickly and ready to give up, not even bothering to conceal his pain. “You still have Legolas, your subjects who love you. Nations respecting you.”

“Legolas is sickened by as much as having to look at me, he has been for a long time. Contempt is all he has.”

“That’s not true!” The elleth exclaimed, “I have spent a lot of time with the prince and he has confided in me many times. Legolas loves you, he just finds it hard to deal with you sometimes.”

Thranduil huffed, “either way, he won’t be back.”

“He will be back. He won’t be away longer than a few decades the most. His heart will pull him back to his kin, and home,” Tauriel guaranteed.

“Decades?” Thranduil wondered on a lost voice. “My stomach hurts too much…” He finally moved his other hand slowly, only to place it tenderly on his belly. 

“What’s wrong with the king??” Tauriel demanded from the entering healer, now very worried that Thranduil had some ailment to do with his stomach, a serious ailment that meant Legolas should be back sooner if he wanted to see his father alive. 

The healer walked up to them sombre and silent, well-nigh disregarding her, but at least she was focussed on the patient. She placed a hand on the king’s forehead without much ado, held it there concentrating, then put it on his chest repeating the procedure, then finally she put it on Thranduil’s abdomen for the same amount of time and the king simply let her, pliant and limp still, not commenting or giving any indication that he gave her any of his attention, apart from a momentary change in his breathing pattern when she touched his belly. Tauriel never let go of his hand, she planned she wouldn’t till he pulled it away himself, per chance he needed the support. 

The newest arrived elf acted just as dismissive as he was and Tauriel had the feeling the healer seemed angry as she pulled her sack open and produced a few leafs she crushed into a cup and poured some water over them. “Drink. It will calm the roiling of your insides,” she promised on a commanding voice. 

Thranduil sighed and leaned up on an elbow obediently, braced by a hand Tauriel freed to support his back while the healer manoeuvred the potion down his throat and then as if everything would be in order, she packed up and marched towards the entrance to leave them. “Wait!” Tauriel stood, scandalised. “Is that it? You won’t stay with him to assure he will get better?”

The healer looked outright hostile. “I am not playing this game and His Majesty knows that fine well.”

“So you just leave him to suffer on his own?” Tauriel challenged. 

“He is to blame himself only and yet he insists. Severe alcohol poisoning won’t kill an elf. Done repeatedly, he should still recover at this stage, though maybe slower each time.” She resumed on her path, but added from the doorway, “the potion will help him rest as well. If you could get him to drink less, that would be good.” She advised.

It took Tauriel the amount of time she needed to turn her head to digest the situation. Thranduil was out of control, desperate to numb the heartache, and alternatively, bury himself to escape the hurting. She didn’t think any less of him for it, in fact quite the opposite. His protective walls crushed due to recent events, there were no traces of his icy heart left. Exposed, it was shattered and now Tauriel knew with chilling clarity why he had always been reserved and arrogant. It was either that, or this. She looked back to regard him with sympathy and found him with his eyes half lidded, peering at her with a mask of indifference that didn’t quite convince. “May I stay with you?” She offered her all, her heart calling out to his, “in case you need something,” she justified, fearing he would reject her bid. 

Thranduil nodded slowly, absently, already appearing a lot more peaceful than a moment ago. Perhaps the potion was working. “Tauriel…” He mused, “how long has it been since we last spoken?”

“Near enough half an Ioa, My Lord,” the redhead answered dutifully.

“My guards report less threats to border control forces. Is that truly the case?”

Tauriel bit her lips on the inside. Did he not remember she wasn’t with them anymore? And if she reminded him, would that result in him sending her away? She didn’t like the idea of his servants caring for him in this awful state where even memory loss was an issue, they were too scared of the ruler’s wrath to do it properly to his advantage. But lying she couldn’t. “I wouldn’t know Sire. I’m still confined to the Halls by your order.”

Thranduil actually blinked at that, startled. He still didn’t pull away however and remained limp and listless, turning his head back towards her in a fragmented manner. Tauriel didn’t know if that was the effect of the alcohol or the potion, but it felt very wrong seeing him so without control in his feebleness. “A sentence should’ve been passed,” he claimed.

“Well…” Tauriel frowned. She couldn’t exactly come out and blame him on the spot, for more reasons than one.

“I didn’t know what to do with you at first,” he squinted, as if remembering some distant past, not something that was simply a couple of seasons ago. “And in no way I wanted to magistrate in anger. I have no decision for you, Tauriel, if that is what you came for,” he finally temporarily reacquired his wits. 

“Let me serve you and tend to you,” she offered, “as your humble attendant, here in your chambers. No offence to your footmen, but a female’s touch is sorely needed around here,” she gestured around, “organisation lacks, along with security and the provision of personal care.” Was as far as she dared to go. But that somebody needed to insist when he should stop drinking and take care of his health, that is what she meant. 

Thranduil perked up enough for a derisive smile at that, “you, a foot servant? You would not be able to bring about the obedience and humility required for that,” he challenged.

“Which is exactly why it would be a suitable sentence. Correctional, and if I fail, harsher punishment is fair to be dealt,” she held firmly, wanting to help at all costs. If Legolas wasn’t around, it would be her duty, as his closest friend to take care of the prince’s father. 

The older elf stared at her for a moment. “Very well. Consider yourself demoted to handmaiden of the king. I’ll let you know Idhrenion is foolish to think his potions are enough to put me to sleep. Bring me honey mead,” he gave his first command to her in her new capacity, knowing fine well she would have an issue with it and where Tauriel had a concern, she would speak up.

Tauriel’s chest raised in a big breath, in alarm. Honey mead was a lot stronger than wine and she had just promised herself she would put a halt on his alcohol consumption. But it was of course rather foolish of her to think she would be able to start first thing. So after a pause, she nodded and set out on her orders.

tbc

Glossary:

Ioa – elven solar year


	4. Workforce

Chapter 4: Workforce

As Tauriel rightly guessed it would be, being Thranduil’s personal handmaiden was the hardest thing she had ever done. The king wasn’t particularly demanding of any of his servants, it wasn’t that. Above the daily routine of preparing his robes, bringing in what he needed for his sustenance or anything else he wanted fetched and writing down messages he required passed on to subjects in different roles at the Halls, there really wasn’t much to do. Cleaning wasn’t her duty and neither was making his bed. Tauriel understood now clearly how Galion usually had plenty of time for recreational activities, but she wasn’t going to pursue any of those. Even when not needed, especially since the king ignored most his usual court proceedings half the time lately and chose to withdraw into the quiet of his quarters with a few bottles, the redhead stayed close by, jumping at any chance to engage Thranduil or challenge his drinking. He paid her no heed and continued to sit around moping, and usually suffered the consequences of his ample alcohol consumption in silence if there was any. Tauriel could only guess from his frowning expression and how he held onto furniture as he went on these occasions. He retired to bed early often and left it late, though on this particular day the sun has passed the summit of the summer sky and there was still no sign from him, no call for servants, no noise. 

The ex-guard was too apprehensive to leave it any longer and decided to check on him, stealing into the partially darkened room. The smell of spirits and wine was overpowering instantly, more than usual, and that worried her too. Nonetheless the situation wasn’t quite as dire as she had anticipated, she did find Thranduil in bed and not as she feared, in a puddle of his own fluids, but it was immediately apparent he needed help. Tauriel took one look at his shaking form, tussled and sweaty hair and the hand that tightly held his belly, trembling fingers moving constantly in a feeble attempt to quell the incapacitating cramps she knew from Idhrenion couldn’t be suppressed without the help of soothing remedies or at least symptomatic relief, the sight making her step back and shout out at the other servant to fetch the healers. Only after she made sure Galion was doing as he was asked that she glided back to Thranduil’s side and grabbed a cloth to dry his sweat soaked features, trying to get his attention at the same time by tilting his head up as she worked, hoping to make eye contact. 

It only came to pass for a fraction of a moment before he averted his eyes, part immersed in both physical and emotional pain, part refusing contact with the outside world, but Tauriel could’ve sworn on her life that she saw the sliver of embarrassment clouding his eyes before they glazed over in avoidance. It was more than his dedicated carer could take. The elleth’s hand moved to his, atop his belly, not being able to reach where he was hurting, but that didn’t stop her from stroking his arm affectionately and squeezing his fingers, “please, please, My Lord. Let me help you, I beg you. You can’t go on like this, torturing yourself. Your son wouldn’t want that, nobody would want that.” 

“You can’t help,” he established, voice breathy and weak, but unyielding and dismissive, “you can’t bring Legolas home.” 

“He would come if he knew how unwell you were,” Tauriel countered.

“If he comes out of pity, it’s worthless all the same,” he argued, breath hitching with the cramps that interfered with his intentions to speak. 

Tauriel shook her head, despairing, “you can’t be fond of hurting so.”

He huffed at that, “you’ll find bodily pain is quite distracting from troubles and so is mead. I don’t think I would’ve survived my wife’s death if the agony from the dragon’s burns didn’t distract me.”

“So you don’t want the healer to bring you relief?” She challenged, rather livid. 

“I didn’t say that,” he admitted, eyes closing and responsiveness away with the pain again. 

Tauriel knew better than to interpose. Stroking his arm, as close as she could get to the offending body part, the elleth persevered till he rode out the pain, teeth chattering and barely concealing a moan. “Please let me help,” she started again. “Get you over this episode, then I could be here every hour to distract you myself from drinking, if you’d only let me.”

“Where is the healer?” He seemed to be ignoring her, “my stomach hurts very badly.”

“I know it does,” she squeezed at his arm encouragingly, “that’s what I’m trying to stop, for good. Don’t you want that?”

“Today?” He wheezed, “today I certainly do.”

Tauriel nodded, using the cloth again to swerve his attention on her at the same time as drying the already regathered sweat on his brow, “good. Just trust me alright? Hold on. Follow my lead, let me guide you, look after you. You need to follow some of my orders for that, understand? Can you do that? I promise to make everything better.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he grumbled. 

“I am certain I can keep them, as long as you do as you’re told.”

Thranduil had to smile at that, despite everything, “you and only you would tell your king to obey. Not even my healers or advisors dare such thing.”

“Then I am the right person for the job,” Tauriel reasoned.

Thranduil closed his eyes and groaned, in the throes of another cramp, “I guess right now, I don’t have a choice.”

Tbc


	5. Address

Chapter 5: Address

Tauriel had to note that Idhrenion looked more frustrated and fretful as she treated her royal patient this time. The healer was very gentle with the king, handling him tenderly, prompting him unwearyingly, shushing him kindly. The other elleth made sure Thranduil was comfortable and she even waited till he fell asleep before she rose. If Tauriel didn’t already suspect, it would’ve given her a clue that something was really wrong and therefore she rushed after the healer and called her out on it in her direct manner, “what happened in there? What changed? How bad is he?”

Idhrenion gave her an encouraging smile this time, seeing her fretfulness. “He will recover.”

“Why were you were so different with him than other times!”

“I couldn’t ignore his suffering. The cramps were bad.”

“But you took care of it, right?”

“Yes and no. I would have the command to take away his pain completely, his physical pain that is, but I am not going to as I have not done in the past either. He will never stop drinking if I make symptomatic consequences disappear.”

Tauriel’s eyes went wide and on instinct checked that the bedroom’s door was closed, “does he know this?”

“He never asked, but I am certain he knows,” the healer nodded, “His Majesty isn’t foolish.”

“And he does not order you otherwise…” Tauriel sighed. It didn’t really surprise her that the king was intentionally torturing himself. “I am so sorry, I apologise for not being able to follow your advice and slow his drinking.” She added after a pause and some reflection. 

The healer tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, “well, I wouldn’t say that. In point of fact he has been consuming less since you assumed duties here.”

Tauriel reeled back internally. So Thranduil had often been even more intoxicated than she was used to. “Are you sure?” She asked horrified. 

“Yes. Therefore, please keep doing whatever you are doing. His servants could not deny him and made no difference, so we thank Valar for your presence.”

“I cannot deny his orders either, Idhrenion, you know that.” Tauriel argued. 

“Maybe so, but you are doing something. It’s either that you cheer him up, or that he doesn’t feel like drinking in your absence for some reason. I do not know why. He does not care for pretences any longer, but he perhaps doesn’t want to appear inconsiderate or foolish in your presence, whether it is a conscious decision or an unconscious desire. I do not mean to pry, but can you guess the reason? Because you must capitalise on it, he is getting worse even with drinking less.” 

Tauriel stood clueless, “I am very sorry, but I have no idea.”

Idhrenion nodded, acknowledging. “Then you should care for him, be there for him. I do not want to come often, as a ploy. I left him a few vials to help him sleep and lessen cravings for the eventuality he even gets to a stage where withdrawals are a concern, nonetheless I do not wish to give him many pain relievers or anything to calm his stomach habitually. It might sound harsh, but we want him to suffer with it because the more he ails, the more likely he is to realise he can’t go on like this.”

“I understand,” Tauriel agreed with a heavy heart. 

“I am confident to leave him in your care,” the healer assured, considering the conversation over. 

Tbc


	6. Jaunt

Chapter 6: Jaunt

Tauriel woke to the sounds of retching and jolted out her seat where she unwittingly must’ve fallen asleep to find that Thranduil wasn’t in his bed. She rushed to the king’s bath chambers where the sound was coming from to find her master bending over a wash bowl, standing shaking in nothing but a thin nightgown, knees weak and wobbly. He was supporting himself holding onto the washstand, not that Tauriel could trust the security of his whitened knuckles. The warrior turned hand maiden didn’t think twice about jumping to his aid and cradled his thin form tightly, ready to catch his whole weight if he weakened further. 

There was nothing but stomach acid in his belly to throw up, and he struggled with it, his guts contracting painfully whether it was a successful or unsuccessful attempt to purge. With her arms round him that gave her a close feel, Tauriel was alarmed by the intensity of the cramping and found herself wishing for the moment that Idhrenion didn’t keep back medicine from him, however good her reasons were for doing so. 

Thranduil quivered and moaned, barely catching his breath, prompting some coughing in between heaves that made his belly freeze midseize and that seemed to hurt him just as much. “It’s alright, it will be over soon,” she encouraged senselessly despite some logical thought whispering her otherwise. Her hand moved to where he could not reach in his rigid attempt to keep holding on and not collapse and she started to rub his belly gently and instinctually just under his ribcage where it seemed to harden most. She was doing him some favours, Tauriel gathered from how he leaned into her touch, his pained breathing evening out somewhat. So intimately close, it startled her into a frenzy even more when his stomach contracted for more painful and unnecessary heaves, so much so she wondered whether she should talk to the healer again. Her hand remained at work though, trying to rub out the spasms, attentive to his every twitch and sound so she could calibre what she was doing. 

It was either her work, or his stomach simply finished trying to throw itself up for the moment, but his belly became noticeably softer all of a sudden and his strength went with it. He leaned forward more, eyes closing and Tauriel struggled with trying to manoeuvre him into a position where he didn’t hit his head into the washing stand as he went down. They landed clumsily in not much more than a heap, Tauriel kneeling and his upper body splayed over her lap. “Are you alright? Are you aware?” The redhead reached for his cheek, rubbing and patting gently. 

“My stomach…” He managed, disoriented and pale.

Tauriel shook her head, angry with the healer, “let me lie you down here on the floor till I have a different healer called. Idhrenion is wrong about her methods,” she held, finding it hard to watch him suffer so. 

“The rubbing, that helped a lot,” he suggested, breathy. 

“Alright,” she agreed, glad that there was something she could do and reassumed her previous manner of gently easing out some cramps, this time being able to see his expressions as she done so. Thranduil was taking bigger breaths, though it was obvious they were still hurting his wrangled abdominals, but there was a certain resolve about them as he consciously attempted to take control of his body and that calmed her somewhat. Thranduil will be fine, he would always be, wouldn’t he. “Anything else you need?” Tauriel hoped she could do something else for him.

“Water…” Came the unexpected answer. Not something he had asked for in months, not to her knowledge. Still, she was worried his stomach would not be able to keep that down either at the moment. 

“I can’t reach the jug from here. Is it alright to let you slide onto the floor now?” Tauriel intended to humour him nevertheless.

Thranduil gave a little shake of the head, “in a moment. When the cramps ease. Just carry on as you were,” he asked keenly, then concentrated on the relieving sensation when she complied. 

“My Lord…” Tauriel started after a pause of regarding his drained and sickly features. He could sure not be riddled by heartache in this state of disorientating physical condition, but how was this worth it? “It saddens me to see you like this,” she admitted, quite sure for the moment that the comfort she was offering presently was greater than his predilection for privacy. “Please, if there is anything I can do. If you’d let me guide you,” she begged once more. 

“If you were me, what would you do?” He questioned serenely, defeatedly, facial expression not changing from being ironed out by exhaustion. 

“I would go after him. Find him. Legolas. Surely a grand gesture like that would sway him, give you a chance for discourse and right all wrongs.”

Thranduil grunted, “I am the King of Mirkwood. I can’t just take a leave whenever I wish.”

“Your advisors have shared the good news with you, though in all fairness I do not know if you’ve even listened or understood. The woods are thriving in lush green, no spider nests to speak of within days’ treks. Your councillors extended farming areas, if only temporarily till there’s any renewed threat. Orcs decimated and have retreated, along with Sauron owing to actions of the White Council, his influence diminishing as we speak. Trade is unrestricted also, deliveries have arrived from Dale, Erebor, Lothlorien and the Shire. Your treasury full to pay for all and keep your elves in comfort I’m told they’ve not experienced in thousands of years. It’s partly what gives you the luxury to keep yourself ill and not having to trouble yourself with daily skirmishes and the usual agrarian difficulties. If there was a time when you could escape for a while, this would be it.”

The older elf opened his eyes at that and slowly turned his head towards his handmaiden, interest chasing the clouds from his gaze. “Travel? We shall travel,” he allowed. “I need to get well and swift. Call Idhrenion, tell her of the plan. Surely she has some potions under her sleeves she was not willing to share,” he ordered on a stronger voice, reminiscent of the Elvenking she knew. 

Tauriel took a moment to answer, stunned. Was he in fact going to take her advice? “You want me to go right now? Will you manage the pain? What about the water? Should I not help you into bed first?” 

“Water,” he nodded tentatively. He wasn’t looking forward to dealing with the cramps without her touch at any case. Her rubs and caressing attention was pleasant, and her presence and rational will also distracted him from the throbbing of his belly. 

“Do you think you would be comfortable sitting?” She suggested thoughtfully, “we could move you to lean against the towel rack?” Tauriel took him round his upper body at his permitting nod and slid him over, then fetched a cup to pour some water in that she gave over hesitantly. “Will you manage?” She enquired benevolently.

The water felt good going down his scratchy, acid filled throat, but that was as far as pleasant experiences went. As soon as the liquid reached his stomach, it felt like a lead ball and his insides curled. Thranduil felt like choking as the water he was swallowing down met with the previous mouthful on its way up. It made him lean forward, one hand going towards his belly. 

Tauriel jumped, prepared, and by the time the gag became productive, the cup in front of him was replaced with the washbowl and she slid round to brace him, all her doing he wasn’t sick on himself. It didn’t take the redhead much time to move her hand to his stomach either and press, giving Thranduil the impression it was her touch that kept his belly from exploding. 

The king gagged long, wishing he never took those few mouthfuls as they were wrecking such havoc he would’ve never imagined. His stomach hurt badly as if tearing and he was feeling progressively weaker and woozier with the exertion to the extent he feared he would meet the floor, even though he was already on it and he would’ve as well if not for Tauriel’s observational skills and quick thinking. “I’m going to get you to lie down,” she embraced him so she could gently place him down on his side. The only movement he made on his own volition was to pull his knees up, to his belly that hurt so much he could not help passing out.

Tbc


	7. Attention

Chapter 7: Attention

Tauriel sat on a chair by the slumbering king’s bed, staring ahead, straightened in a rigid posture. It wasn’t till Idhrenion touched her shoulder that she realised that the other elleth had been speaking to her and was extending a glass vial towards her: “You need to take this and a hold of yourself Tauriel, you are no use to the king in this condition.”

The redhead started, unwittingly proving the other elf’s point about not being at her best. “I am well,” she argued. “And I am not the patient. What do you think about how poorly His Majesty’s been today?” She pressed instead. 

“Drink this and we will have a talk,” Idhrenion persevered with her plan. 

Seeing her determination, Tauriel didn’t want to delay finding out about Thranduil’s health any further and downed the offered tincture, which incidentally didn’t taste bad at all. It was sweet and warm, making her chest rise with deeper, calming breaths as soon as it passed her gullet. “Are you trying to make me go to sleep too?!” The ex-guard reproached. 

“No. It will only clear your head, uproot emotions clinging to obsessive thought processes. Relax you by opening way to new perspectives. But to be fair, it would not be a bad idea,” the healer held, “I presume you haven’t had a good night’s sleep since you’ve started work here.”

“I had always been accustomed to little sleep in the guard,” Tauriel defended her position. “Can we talk about how the king’s condition worsened.”

“Come, he will not need you for a couple of hours at least,” the healer put a hand on Tauriel’s back to encourage her towards the door. “I am enthralled by your dedication to help and comfort the king, I must admit,” she started when she believed them out of earshot. “With your reputation no less.” 

“I have been misjudged often in the past and I have also made mistakes,” the green clothed elleth admitted, on the fence. Were they ever going to get to the point?

“Given the trust I have in you that you will only have His Lordship’s welfare in mind, I also have to admit that as a healer I have reached the end of my approaches regarding treating his heavy drinking. There’s considerable damage to internal organs no doubt, which I still deem reversible and it will remain reversible for a very long time shall he continue his habit,” she felt the need to assure Tauriel, “but I myself find it hard to look over the suffering his pattern offsets. I wanted to talk to you about causes and how we may alter the effect of those. What is your opinion regarding the reason behind his self-destruction?”

“I am pretty sure I know why,” Tauriel supplied, hesitant. Thranduil would not like being discussed behind his back. She wasn’t one to keep to rules, but such delicate matters were beyond that. No, she would not reveal Thranduil’s greatest weaknesses to anyone, be that a healer or otherwise, regardless of how easy it would be to guess most contributing factors. “He had confided it me,” she referenced the moments they shared where vocalised fragments of truths gave way to unabashed verities in looks that passed between them, “I would not like to undermine this trust he has in me.”

Idhrenion smiled benevolently, “I am glad my suspicions are founded. He cares for you in ways he doesn’t for any other in court.”

“I wouldn’t say that…” The redhead struggled with the concept, part of her scandalised by the underlying connotations and another part contemplating the nature of the unusual bond that connected them.

“You do not need to disclose the king’s secrets of course,” the other elleth continued, “but if you have any ideas regarding ways I could help so we could get the king well again, then please share those,” she encouraged.

“Actually, yes, I do,” Tauriel started, “one I’ve talked with His Majesty about. I don’t know if he’s well enough for it though,” she frowned, “but I do hope you could get him well enough for it. We would be leaving on a voyage, perhaps for a few months or longer.”

Idhrenion looked astonished and horrified, “you suggest he should undertake a journey, riding all day long with dangers almost certainly necessitating close combat at every turn?”

“I know it sounds bad, but I believe it’s for the best. He had agreed to it and for the first time in a long while, I’ve seen him showing interest in finding anything else than the bottom of a bottle. I believe he needs to do this, right some wrongs. And given it is supposed to be a longer journey, we would be travelling light, so there would be no barrelloads of liquors available.”

The brunette gave a shaky sigh, “His Majesty plans this?” She was still against it, but who was she to question the king’s intentions and ways of assuring Mirkwood’s safety in his absence. 

“Yes. It might also help him focus on something else than drinking for once,” Tauriel gave her all to convince the elf with a caring profession. “Can you get him into shape for the enterprise?”

“Only with His Lordship’s help. If he really wants to do this, I would expect he would use some sense and restraint in regards to his alcohol consumption.”

“He will,” Tauriel assured, probably herself foremost. She could only hope, encourage and remind him, though she wasn’t even sure he would remember their conversation. 

Tbc


	8. Scheduled

Chapter 8: Scheduled

Thranduil woke with a whimper and turned to his left side, cradling his belly and hoping the pressure would alleviate the stabbing feeling that roiled through his stomach. To his slight surprise, the pain was immediately attended to by something soft, warm and wet being slid down to where it hurt, coupled with soothing words that he recognised as ones meant to accelerate healing. “Tauriel?” He questioned the voice curiously once he got his senses back.

“Idhrenion wanted me to practice my healing, for the journey,” the redhead supplied matter of factly. 

“The jouney.” Thranduil grunted, muddled, his brain still taking its time to surface from the fog. 

“To find Legolas.” Tauriel voiced tentatively, her own insides clenching with unease. For her, it would be something unthinkable if he’d changed his mind or didn’t remember their conversation. “You need to get better swiftly so we can set off as soon as possible while conditions are favourable. And the more time passes, the more likely it is we could lose track of him.” She elaborated, hoping to jog his memory. 

Thranduil sighed and turned to his back, a little more comfortable due to her ministrations. “I doubt he would want to see either of us,” he ruminated, cynical.

“Maybe not me. I have no excuses and nothing new I could offer him. That is why I would stay in the shadows once we find him. But I can’t very well let you venture continentwide alone,” she reasoned, still not being able to contemplate the possibility of him not going. 

Thranduil’s forehead creased, “letting me? You have serious authority delusions.” He mused. 

“I apologise,” the elleth averted her bold gaze, “I hope I have not angered you too much, My Lord.”

“You have not…for some reason,” he added, incredulous himself. “Perchance I am too weary for anger.” The king ruminated dismissively, not completely engaged with the topic at hand. 

“I am fully committed to bring about your wellbeing, Your Majesty,” Tauriel assured, “please consider this as fact.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes, “tiresome, futile undertaking,” he ridiculed. 

Tauriel shook her head, “I do not care what you think, My Lord. I will not watch idle while others I care about suffer when there are other options.”

“Care? You defy me at every step and now you claim to care and understand? What a curious individual you are.” 

“I guess it’s just me,” Tauriel gave a sad smile, “however burdensome it may be. I wish happiness to you and Legolas. Your son happy is what I’d like to see, probably especially because I can’t give that to him myself. Going to him is the only way to make it right.”

Thranduil exhaled slowly, eyes misting over as he stared up at the ceiling, raptured by a wave of sadness at the mention of his son, something that then turned him absent and noncommittal. “I am tired.”

Though he didn’t specify and drop more of his regal façade than he’d lost already during recent afflictions, Tauriel didn’t think for one moment he meant physically, although he most certainly must’ve been like that too. “I can be your feet, I can be your strength, I can be your will, whatever you need. In exchange for only one thing – direction, acceptance of my offer.” She wagered boldly. 

“I’m tired.” Thranduil repeated, sounded more defeated than ever. “Do whatever you wish,” he settled for the easier option, too drained for more discussions, fighting or pain. “It cannot be worse than this.”

“I’ll let you sleep, you need more rest at any case, but tomorrow we start with getting you ready,” she allowed, not feeling very encouraged by his answers but she will have to take whatever she can get. 

Tbc


	9. Assembly

Chapter 9: Assembly

Thranduil was rather chagrined he was made to sit. He didn’t have to make much of an effort to do so, the pillows and Tauriel did most of the work, he would’ve much preferred being left alone, cocooned and hibernating, closed into himself and into a stillness that almost stopped him from thinking even. His stomach didn’t bother him much in that position either, as if lulled and drugged into a subconscious presence, which it probably had been with the help of the drugs that had been administered to him at regular intervals. But Tauriel had to come and poke and prod and prompt and cajole him into no less than a frustrated groan.

“Are you in pain?” The redhead observed him attentively, mindful of the displeased sound.

The elvenking waved her off, “I wish to rest.” His hand moved towards his belly reflexively though as the changing of positions indeed initiated a jolt of a twinge settling down to a dull ache in his belly. 

“You have been resting for four days in a row,” Tauriel advised him, “Idhrenion informs me that you should be over the worse of the withdrawal symptoms we’ve saved you the trouble of experiencing by keeping you sedated. We have to get some good food into your belly if we’re to restart your digestion and get your strength up. And to be honest, some council members have grown impatient as well. You haven’t been seen in public for weeks and the court was hoping for assurances.” 

“Court. Assurances, weeks?” Thranduil grunted scandalised, “is that all it takes in these wretched parts of the world to become questioned?”

“No, My Lord, of course not,” the elleth appeased, “nobody is questioning you, your people would simply like to be assured that their dear king is well, as would I. How is your stomach? Do you think you could manage some broth? Any nausea?”

“Of course I’ll be nauseous if you jiggle me so!” Thranduil continued to complain about having been uprighted.

“You could be nauseous because you’re hungry,” Tauriel tried, “I’ve been taught an incantation for calming your stomach. Even so, we might encounter some initial difficulties getting your insides working as they should be, but we’re not to be discouraged by those. You could be entirely well in no more than a few days.”

“Well?” He repeated sarcastically. 

“Physically at least for the most part,” she corrected herself, “should I get the broth or do you need me to do the spell first?” The handmaiden sounded very keen. 

“Spell,” he huffed on instinct, irritated. He would’ve wanted to be left to his grievances, but his subjects had gotten used to a certain image of their king he himself had always been promoting and it felt wrong and less than his self-worth dictated not to give them that. Unhurriedly though. A part of his will still kept him back, urging him to delay having to get himself together. That was why he had accepted her offer of the incantantion and not because his stomach greatly needed the treatment for the moment. 

“Could you please uncover your front, My Lord,” Tauriel averted her eyes. She had attended to his bare stomach on numerous occasions while he was unconscious, sleeping or not completely with it, but now that he was clearly lucid and in control, it was no longer appropriate for her to touch him arbitrarily. 

Thranduil slowly raised a hand in response, shaky fingers clumsily fiddling with the fastenings of his night gown. It surprised him how much difficulty the simple task posed for him and how much of his energy it took. The redhead waited patiently, “the tremors are part of the withdrawal process, don’t mind them,” she observed, “they will lessen and cease in a few days as well.”

“In that case I hardly think anybody should see me till then,” he grumbled, unhappy with himself and his body’s weaknesses foremost. 

“Of course, My Lord. There’s quite a lot of progress to be made for when the time comes to greet your assembly. May I?” She reached towards him without touching just yet. 

Thranduil rubbed a hand across his own belly and looked down, as if testing. It was strange how it didn’t hurt much, it wasn’t what he had been accustomed of late. He had almost forgotten how it felt not to always be under the impression as if acid was eating him from inside out. He had to admit, keeping it like this was tempting, but then so was trying to forget mistakes he made raising his son and ruling the kingdom. And at remembering that, his stomach churned renewed with guilt, something he had been trying to remedy in the first place, which turned out to be a no win situation. His belly hurt if he was drinking and if he wasn’t, then also, along with suffering the heaviness of burdens on his chest and a swirling thought storm he could not quell, not without the stupor of strong and a lot of liquor. A vicious circle as it were. “My Lord?” Tauriel was still waiting for his response, looking at him concerned. 

The tortured elvenking nodded minutely and gave her access to his abdomen now that he really felt like he needed her. None of his turmoil was as bad when she was around, she could distract him if nothing else. “You’re too tense,” the other elf observed, deciding to rub his belly in circling motions a little before she stopped above his navel and pressed a little, eyes half lidded and murmuring something repeatedly. Thranduil watched her as she filled most of his vision up close, her naturally flushed cheeks, the slightly curvy red locks that were a rarity amongst the elvish, her shapely nose, full lips and green eyes the colour of a vigorous forest it once was. He had to admit she was beautiful and unique and her conduct made her stand out more. She would fight like a fellbeast if she believed in the cause or the soul she was fighting for. He would have to count himself lucky that her cause was currently his wellbeing.

“Did it work? Is your nausea diminishing?” Tauriel jolted him out his musings by looking up at his face and startling herself away and back a bit when she found his intense gaze boring into her very fae. 

“I am well,” he answered truthfully, once again drawing a hand to his belly to test that unlikely and unexpected development.

“I could try again if the results are not sufficient,” the elleth misunderstood the gesture. 

“No, you have done well,” he praised. “You are an accomplished healer. You talents would be wasted in the role of a handmaiden once I’m recovered.”

Tauriel brightened to the extent of her eyes widening, but it wasn’t his compliment that pleased her, rather him voicing an intention to indeed recover. “The broth is still warm. Not too warm, just right. It’s a vegetable stew mash with little bits of lembas soaked in it. If you could manage just a few mouthfuls, that should be wholesome enough,” she stepped back to the table to fetch the bowl. “Shall I feed you or will you feed yourself?”

Thranduil held out a hand for the item. No, he will not further his already undignified situation by letting her spoonfeed him. The aroma of the well made soup reached his nostrils now that it was very close and he instinctually inhaled deeper, finding that it didn’t make him nauseated, but hungry. 

Tbc


	10. Span

Chapter 10: Span

Thranduil stretched the council meeting, carefully deliberating and discussing every prospective move concerning agriculture, trade, foreign relations and most importantly, defence. Leaving his people to get on with it without him seemed like a selfish decision, but Tauriel was right, it was now or never, so he wanted to make sure everything was extra safe and covered to an extent he could now sense some irritation and fatigue seeping through the composed façade of his advisors and officials as well, some older than his own father would’ve been if he was still alive. “What crops will we have to plant next spring, Suiadan?” Thranduil turned his question to his chief agrarian.

“Hard to say, My Lord,” the addressed hesitated bewildered. Did the king really intend to stay that long away or was he just covering all bases? “Under current circumstances, I would expect a good harvest of all we’ve planted or overseen, grains, fruit, mushrooms, but we won’t know for sure till later in the year,” he tried to remind his ruler that the question was rather illogical, without sounding insolent.

“I want to extend the vineyard on the western side of the outer halls,” Thranduil established. 

“I will have the area combed,” Feren offered, making for the first step of planting anything outside the heavily guarded perimeter of the fortress. 

“Important correspondence will be brought to me by you personally,” the king stopped his pacing in front of his lieutenant. “I trust you will find me,” he didn’t question the brown haired elf’s tracking abilities. 

Feren nodded, perplexed. He had been told this numerous times already, along with most of the other things discussed at the meeting. If the king was going on like this, it would be his sanity that would be privately questioned by everyone. “Permission to take two guards and Idhrenion with me for such a venture,” he angled for something useful, given how concerned the court had been for their monarch’s health. 

Thranduil rounded on him, nostrils flaring, eyes opening wider and regarded his officer cagily. The comment was an overt disparagement with his decisions and it could have well been a sign of his recently weak rule that it was voiced in this manner. “No. Tauriel is sufficient for my needs,” he established, maintaining composure, though his insides tightened and his spirit called out for a drink as conflict would do that to him.

“I thank you for your confidence,” Tauriel chose this moment to step forward from the shadow of a pillar, although she not ranked high enough since her removal from the guard to even be present at the meeting. However she did not miss the repeated glances the king stole at the decanter on the table during the lengthy hours spent there and this last look of his lingered longer. Everybody had been taking refreshments bar Thranduil, not to mention his delicate stomach needed proper sustenance if he was to keep to his current semi-healthy condition. Tauriel stepped closer and bowed her head to the gathering. “I will not disappoint,” she guaranteed the other elves that looked considerably more dubious than their ruler. “Which is why I would need your assistance, My Lord,” she bowed lower before him, “I’ve been given some new herbs to assess their efficacy and because the effect could be different with every individual, I would like to make sure we’re taking the right remedies for you, but for that, you would have to tell me yourself if they work, Your Majesty. I apologise My King, there’s no other way and time’s short if we’re to leave in the morning.”

“You left your obligations rather late don’t you think?” Thranduil groused.

“It is true, I am sorry,” the redhead had the good sense to look remorseful, “if all is dealt with here, please let me escort you to your chambers so I can make up for my mistake,” she suggested innocently.

The king looked round his assembly thoughtfully. “I will send a sentry ahead tonight to make the first leg of your journey safe and swift,” Feren proposed, hoping to bring the tiresome marathon discourse to an end himself, like the rest of the participants. 

“No escorts outside the borders of Mirkwood,” Thranduil accepted the proposal with a condition, “you need all forces for defence.”

“Understood, Your Highness,” the lieutenant obeyed, “I wish you a pleasant and successful journey.” The good wishes were followed and echoed by similar reverberates from all in the room. Thranduil nodded, turning slowly, not entirely convinced everything would be well taken care of in his absence, but truly, there wasn’t much else he could do. “Le hannon, navaer,” he decided on setting off to follow Tauriel with a bounce on his heels. Relieved sighs were only emitted by the gathered servants and high ranking officers after the last of his trailing robes disappeared behind a pillar. 

“Are you alright?” Tauriel worried for his wellbeing. He couldn’t have chosen a worst time to stand all day from daybreak to way into the night, longest he had been active since coming back from Dale the year before. 

Thranduil reached for her arm as a response, the gesture giving away an elaborate answer, along with him keeping the rest of his composure and all his customary ceremonial manner of walking down the halls. Still, he welcomed that little support, which made him appear somewhat more casual than servants and passers-by would ordinarily be used to. “Does your stomach hurt?” Tauriel always took her duties seriously, though she had to wait with the question till they got to the quieter pastures leading to his inner chambers before she braved the personal inquiry, if not for anything else but because he would not be in the mood to indulge her if she didn’t take into account his wish for keeping up appearances. 

The taller elf rolled his eyes and gave her an admonishing look, “my stomach always hurts.”

“Can I do something for you?” Tauriel reformulated the question, outwardly patient. 

“Much wine we won’t be able to take. This could be the last time to indulge for at least weeks that we might spend in the wilderness.”

Tauriel panted inaudibly like a fish, eyes snapping up and betraying her obvious disapproval. “My Lord,” she started, not being able to manage more for a moment. “May I be bold with you?”

Thranduil sat down and snorted benevolently, “I’m glad you have learnt to at least be polite and respectful enough to ask for permission. And not to confront me openly in public. It’s an improvement.” 

The elleth paused, at a loss at what that was supposed to mean in terms of what she was supposed to do, but then Thranduil gave a flippant and dismissive gesture, “not a good time, risking health and journey, throwing away progress I’ve made, yaddayadda, save your breath.” He walked over to one of his chest of drawers and pulled out a spiderweb covered, ancient looking bottle, “I’ve had Galion prepare this for us earlier,” he pulled the cork out easily, proving that it had already been readied for drinking, “two glasses Tauriel if you please. You are drinking with me tonight.”

Tauriel opened her mouth, but thought better of it and promptly closed it, looking for the items he requested. Thranduil sat down, smiling at her display of bridled impulses and self-control. “I will survive,” he added mildly at her worried complexion. 

Tbc

Glossary:

Le hannon – thank you  
Navaer – good bye


	11. Slackened

Chapter 11: Slackened

Tauriel gave a sound that came as close to a giggle a grown elf was ever capable of, reminding Thranduil of the unabridged laughter that used to waft through the Halls all the way up from the stream below the fortress, where the few elven children who had had the luck of growing up with and around the redhead had played. As his people had less and less offspring of late, he could think of only a couple of youngsters who would currently be of the right age to entertain themselves frolicking down below, not enough in numbers to make much of a noise or as much as realise that given their age it would be acceptable to behave in such unrestrained way. 

The elf he was drinking with was unaware of his longing, sad musings, but Thranduil was glad to find Tauriel was a happy drunk. He should get her inebriated more often then, away from her own heartache and demons. The king propped an elbow on the table and his cheek in his palm, staring, taking in and admiring her bubbly manner, but not hearing much of the tale she was so zealous telling. Only fragments that reached him through his more disconnected, than drunken haze. “…forest patrol…filthy wizard…never imagined any spider would run from nothing but a kine of araw, but one had to admit there were a lot of them. My only regret is that I could not follow the man on the mearas as I had to assure the safety of my comrades, not that any of them believe me to this very day,” she smiled to herself, shaking her head. 

“You aren’t destined to sit idle inside these Halls,” Thranduil deduced the gist of the story despite not hearing much of the words. Her enthusiasm and dreamy looks were enough. “I promise you this Tauriel, I will never confine you to the stronghold.”

She shrugged, “don’t promise things you don’t have control over.”

Thranduil hissed some air in and tensed, his features turning contrary, “your place, Tauriel,” he warned, in truth a lot more mellow than he would’ve been in the past.

“I’m simply meaning that my future sins might be forcing your hand to harsher punishments,” the elleth hastened to explain.

“You’re planning on a lot of disobeying?” He raised incredulous eyebrows. 

Not that she had ever been particularly economical with the truth, especially since his illness forced her to try to put her foot down more for his own benefit, but a couple of bottles of wine certainly didn’t favour her inhibitions. “I don’t know. But I do know that I will always travel by my own personal moral compass foremost.”

Thranduil sighed, “lirimaer, that is exactly why it’s you I entrust my life with.” He regarded her contemplatively though given the depths of the frankness she went to. “Daybreak is in a short hour.” He stood and took the bottle out her hand to set it down on the table. “Come, poikaer, you need a little rest,” the king lead her to his bed somewhat amused by the results of her drinking and pulled her down as he sat, holding her close by the waist.

“Oh. Oh,” Tauriel came to her senses somewhat at close quarters. If she didn’t know better she would’ve thought he was encouraging her to rest her head on his shoulder, “I apologise,” she somehow found herself guilty of the occurrence and gathered herself enough to rise. “Do you need anything? Are you well?” She got on with her duties, smashed or not. 

“I need you to stand guard.”

Tauriel looked started, “I am no longer a member of the guard, Sire, and even if I was, I would be inclined to suggest I am not the best person for the undertaking in my current state,” she blinked slowly, for the purpose of trying to dissipate the fog around herself. “I am sorry, My Lord, I was under the impression you wanted me to share your drink with you.”

Thranduil regarded her slow and dazed movements with considerable amusement. “I would like you to stand guard and assure my wellbeing,” he specified. “My stomach seems settled enough, bar for the occasional twinge, no different than over the last few days. I would like it to stay that way.”

“I cannot predict the effect of the alcohol you consumed today, My Lord,” Tauriel felt herself sobering somewhat now that she remembered the reason behind their circumstances. 

“Oh, but you can prevent attacks,” Thranduil pulled himself back and arranged his long form on the pillows, “come, apply your magical hand.”

“It might work,” Tauriel didn’t look very pleased, “but I hardly think my healing you aforehand would be an appropriate way to tackle the problem each time.”

“Whatever works,” the king argued, waving her over. He flipped a side of his robe out the way to expose his belly, “come lie with me.” At her reluctance he added, “my innards calm at your touch, I believe you don’t as much as have to actively chant, you have the flair. You would like me to be fit for the ride shortly, I’m telling you a way I will be. Lie with me Tauriel,” he repeated, “you need your rest, you sleep as well. Your hand will do its job nevertheless.” 

Tauriel continued to look weary and confused and doubted the method suggested would be vastly effective, but it was feasible to take advantage of the little it could do. Not as if she could argue with her king, especially not through the haze in her head. The redhead wordlessly climbed beside him and slid her hand onto his flawlessly ridged, smooth abdomen, not noting any bloating or additional rigidness that wasn’t meant to be there. She found a comfy place for her palm, the heel of it resting in his navel, started a chant in her head, but phazed out somewhere around the start of the third line, her body giving into the heavy tranquilising effects of his delicious wine. 

Tbc


	12. Decampment

Chapter 12: Decampment 

“May I suggest a respite, My Lord?” Tauriel looked over at her travel companion now that she’s finally caught up with the older elf. “Vegetation is not so dense around here, we should be able to see danger coming easier in these parts of the forest.”

Thranduil slowed his unremarkable, light bay horse only marginally, barely enough to allow for comprehensible conversation, “do not call me My Lord. Would I dress in this manner if I wanted you to address me so?” He nodded down at his clothes minutely and pointedly, simple grey leggings and a plain, knee length undershirt, covered with kine of araw skin jerkin and boots, not much different than what Legolas would’ve worn. The cloak she did in fact wonder about, for Thranduil’s height, it seemed a little short, so it passed through her thoughts that the king maybe picked it out from his son’s wardrobe, especially as she doubted he would’ve owned anything as plain. His distinctive mane he covered with a cloak, but when it slid off during riding a couple of times, Tauriel could see that it was pleated neatly out the way, further altering his appearance from what people came to expect of the Elvenking.

“Of course,” Tauriel swallowed the subsequent to be address, “what would you like me to call you?”

“You can call me melleth egûr nîn, melethril nîn, guren vell or something akin to those expressions,” he said as if it would’ve been the most natural thing in the world. 

“Sorry?” Tauriel drew her eyebrows together in confusion.

“My plan is for the two of us to pose as a couple as we travel. Commonplace terms of endearment would be expected.”

Tauriel took a deep breath and urged her horse on. The elleth just realised she was lagging behind due to not paying attention to the animals’ pace in her astonishment. “Still. A name might prove necessary in certain circumstances?” She ventured. 

“Nargothronuin.” At her guarded expression he added, “terms where I come from, the great underground fortess under the river Narog. Not all that different from the Halls in fact,” he explained, “but in Beleriand.” His voice took on a dreamy, captivated tone, but he didn’t elaborate further and seemed to have stopped talking and considered the conversation over. It was already more personal than anyone she knew of hearing him discussing at any case. So it was quite a shock when he added, “shorten it to Ronuin. My mother did.”

“Ronuin,” she repeated, for the sake of helping herself remember and taking time to calm herself at the reveal at the same time. “How about a break then, Ronuin?” The redhead addressed him a lot less formally, adjusting to the manner she assumed he wanted her to speak to him in.

“No. I want to shake Feren before we stop. He will follow orders and won’t tail us beyond the borders of Mirkwood.”

“The horses will need a break at some point at any case.”

“Feren assures me they are some of his best. They will serve us well till late tomorrow at least,” Thranduil assured and led his animal off the river path, leaving Tauriel no other choice but to follow and force further questions and worries for the king’s wellbeing to the back of her mind as she manoeuvred her way zigzagging between trees and dense vegetation. If the route taken was a trail, there seemed to be no indication of it and the Silvanian didn’t know it or have ever travelled on it. 

Tbc

Glossary:  
melleth egûr nîn – love of my heart  
melethril nîn – my lover  
guren vell – sweetheart


	13. Retreat

Chapter 13: Retreat

 

Tauriel found with great astonishment that they've reached the feet of the Grey Mountains a lot quicker this way than round following the Forest River like every patrol would, like how they went below Mount Gundabad when she'd joined Legolas on his scouting quest the year before, and now there weren't even more than a couple of goblins to slay. Their present journey could've almost been deemed pleasant if not for the stuffy and windless air under dense vegetation that blocked out sunlight and presented shadows of bats they've decided better not to disturb. Then suddenly, there was light as the forest ended abruptly and chilly air cut into her face, none of which slowed Thranduil one bit. On open terrain haste was of course advisable, yet it seemed clear that there was more to it, nothing to do with the impending night either. They have virtually left Mirkwood behind, no guard would be following to be the cause of the king's hurry, but on second thought that Tauriel had plenty of time for, his haste seemed more like organised purpose. She just had to hope that that was it, and his quietness and urgency had nothing to do with not feeling well and wanting the leg of the journey over with.

 

Thranduil led her decisively towards a mountain pass, not a destination Tauriel would've chosen in any case for the risk of it being a perfect place for an ambush, to an extent she found herself wondering if the length of the time the Elvenking spent cooped up in his Halls had taken a toll on his scouting abilities and whether she should question him, but right before they've reached the feet of the mountain range, he turned left and round a massive boulder and the younger elf realised with no little surprise that there was another, lot smaller path down there, not through the mountains, but leading into a cave inside it.

 

They passed unobstructed and after just one blind turn, there were sporadically placed torches leading the way, just enough to make it possible not to make the wrong step, solid ground being often highly questionable, without the clearly paved passages of elven or Erebor underground abodes. Thranduil dismounted to lead the horse and Tauriel followed his example, a short while before it became unquestionably necessary, given the ceiling closed in on them to an extent she pondered how they would encourage the animals to bend their knees to get through some of the lower archways when her own head bumped into the ceiling. It didn't hurt as much as it should've so she extended a hand in the near darkness to investigate and her touch found wood above her. Smooth, rectangular, treated wood, above and at the sides, structures held up by wider pillars, clearly made for and commonly used in mines. "The dwarves," she remembered. The Grey Mountains were dwarven territory before the dragon wars that forced them to abandon their strongholds. "What were they mining here?" Her curiosity got the better of her, thoroughly impressed that he knew of shelter on habitually enemy territory.

 

"Gold ore around these parts, I believe." Thranduil's voice sounded deeper as if in tandem with the darkness and the steady slope they've manoeuvred since the cave entrance. "But the mountain range is rich throughout. Many ores were extracted from gemstones to coal and salt."

 

"They still are." Another, brash voice established, its owner obstructing their way into a large underground hall. He was shoving his torch into their faces to see them, but in the glow they could also perceive that it was a portly dwarf, distinguished by a beard as long as they go and a pong that would prove dangerous in jeopardy as his adversaries would smell his whereabouts. "And they belong to Durin's Folk if you mind," he threw his torch onto a stone ledge, position which allowed reasonable visibility for all of them. He brandished an axe instead he pulled from his belt.

 

"We don't mind," Thranduil stepped forward and placed a hand on Tauriel's on her hilt of her knife he encouraged her not to pull. "We're here for the rail."

 

"The what?" The dwarf roared incredulously. Tauriel felt it was an appropriate response she would've wanted to echo herself, along with his, "the rail?"

 

"Dayamu Khuzan-ai menu. Naruk ferug." The blond elf extended casually.

 

Tauriel suppressed the need to gasp. Not many elves, including herself knew any dwarvish and the king was the most unlikely candidate. The dwarf narrowed his eyes and shook his head, but the axe was lowered somewhat. "Nobody uses the password anymore. In Gloin and Nain's time perhaps. What else have you got to endorse yourselves."

 

"So the line's still in use?" Thranduil negotiated.

 

"Maybe," the dwarf allowed, "for a good price."

 

"Gems or charms?"

 

"I'd say both," the dwarf bartered, "seeing as I've never seen an elf use these passages. The enchantment won't let anybody see the entrance unless they know it's there. Care to explain that." He stuck his axe into the wood inches from Thranduil's face. "The orcs haven't found it for a thousand years passing by it every day."

 

"The explanation is simple," the visitor clarified calmly, though Tauriel could see he had no patience for being interrogated. "A kingdom that flourished you wouldn't remember, dwarves that used to be convivial and pleased to show their wonders around, but I do. Thrain," he waved a dismissive hand, "the old one of course. I was invited to the inauguration." He looked lazily round, "it was different then, busy and merry."

 

"Immortals," the dwarf spat disapprovingly and reproachfully, but his hostility stayed level at that. "It has become busy again, believe it or not, after the battle by Dale, easier for travellers to come with the goblin numbers greatly reduced," he grinned his merriment, "we haven't resumed mining just yet so the price of the fare is high you see, to pay for my solitude here." He showed a distinctive and refined penchant for profit.

 

Thranduil produced two mumakil skin pouches and opened them for the mine guard to see, one full with shiny silver, the other with colourful gems. The dwarf nodded questioningly, so the newcomer pulled a handful of charms out the folds of his cloak as well, little bottle medallions, bracelets and adorned pins. "The potions should make you resistant to a dragon's spell for years, the rest are for general protection."

 

The dwarf looked long and hard at the paraphernalia, then shrugged, "a customer is a customer and a well paying one is a well paying client. There's one working carriage," he imparted, "that is currently being sent back from Angmar. You're in luck, it should be here by tomorrow or the day aft the very least. It's not easy getting it up the track to this level. Follow me," he pointed to his left and allowed them inside the great hall, in the dim light revealing ruins of what could've once possibly been rows of miner homes. "You can sleep in one of the old wagons in the meantime. Have you any good food?" He eyed the eagerly.

 

"Fruit, cheese, lembas," the redhead finally joined in the conversation seeing as Thranduil seemed to close off, having considered negotiations successful and done with and thus not looking as enthusiastic about the prospect of chitchat as he could've been when it was vital to the advancement of his plan.

 

"No meat? Typical," their host shook his head.

 

The elleth smiled. The dwarf's grunt was also typical and it reminded her of some precious short time she had spent in the company of his kind. "I'm Tauriel," she extended a note of friendship towards the smaller person, leaning to the side to avoid a ledge where the ceiling was lower.

 

The dwarf froze and turned to her, no longer leading them, but blocking their way once more. "You're Tauriel?" He looked her up and down and scrutinized at length to an uncomfortable extent by the end of which Thranduil inwardly bit his lip to keep himself in check and inhaled with nostrils flaring. It was unlikely the dwarf would turn hostile under the circumstances, but his demeanor annoyed the elf nevertheless, including the joyous, excited expression the mineworker settled on. "Friend of dwarves? I will say this, it would've been disturbing having an elf as our queen, but looking at you I can see what our prince saw in you. I would've accepted you as such," the dwarf winked at her, "if all that they say is true."

 

"What is it they say?" Thranduil felt the need to find out.

 

"Great things, traveller! You must know yourself?" The dwarf squinted suspiciously, but resumed the walk.

 

"I know that Tauriel's magnanimity and compassion doesn't have bounds, but details I do not," the disguised ruler tried.

 

"Oh, they say she helped our cause, protected and healed our people. They say she defied her king manifold, to stand by us." Then it looked like he came to a realization, hand smoothing his beard thoughtfully. "Is that why you're on the run?"

 

"We're looking for the prince," Thranduil supplied before Tauriel could answer, "he also helped you if you've heard about that," he added as incentive.

 

"The prince Legolas, aye, I've heard something. Mind ye, he might not be as lenient when he's the king. You can't trust an elvenking, never, in any circumstances," the dwarf gave them a sneaky sideglance, as if only just becoming conscious that it was elves he was talking to. "Well, here," he pointed to a wagon that was turned to the side, "you can spend the night in there. Myself, I have some hunting to do for dinner," he left them without further ado, they could only hear him grumbling quietly from a distance. "Fruit they said," he muttered.

 

"You fair have a way with princes. Queen of the dwarves is it now?" Thranduil couldn't help commenting admonishingly.

 

"I had nothing to do with that," Tauriel defended herself, but there was no need. Her king looked nothing but amused as he looked around the dim and malodorous container they were meant to be sleeping in. "I'll get the horses' fodder," she offered, mostly to get out of that one.

 

Tbc

 

Dwarvish (Khuzdul) Glossary:

 

Dayamu Khuzan-ai menu - Blessings of the Ancestors Upon You  
Naruk – coin  
Ferug – mining pick


	14. Obscurity

Chapter 14: Obscurity

 

The horse blankets the dwarf had offered, Ibun his name was as they've found out, were surprisingly comfortable to lie on and the smell of hay they gave out was actually strong enough to overpower the stench of the rotting wood of the old wagon, so given how long they've been travelling without stopping beforehand, Tauriel actually fell asleep despite thinking she wouldn't. Ever a sentinel at heart though, she couldn't have been sleeping long before slight movement and quiet groans woke her. Hand on the hilt of a dagger, she found that the dwarf was nowhere to be seen. However, sporadic snoring noises gave indication to his whereabouts being somewhere at the other end of the hall. It was Thranduil moaning in his sleep that woke her. She immediately shuffled over to his side, noting that he dug a fist firmly into his stomach and he was sweating profusely, with probable further distress attributed to tremors and rapid eye movements under his eyelids that could indicate nightmares. 

 

Tauriel didn't hesitate to draw the king's upper body into her lap and rub his arms soothingly to rouse him out of the nightmare and comfort him at the same time. "My… Ronuin?" The redhead remembered the name and to use it even though it was unlikely anybody could hear them. She reached for the horse blanket and utilised a corner of it as a cloth, wiping the sweat off his brow and cheeks. "You're scaring me. Are you alright?"

 

Thranduil swallowed and took considerable time getting a breath sufficient enough to talk, "I have a flask in my sack." He held a palm to his chest and breathed deeply, as if trying to calm the mad beating of his heart.

 

"A flask?" Tauriel winced, not liking where this was going.

 

"The strongest homebrew Galion could find," Thranduil clarified somewhat too enthusiastically, "these are clearly withdrawal symptoms I'm suffering from. Just a few mouthfuls and I'll be alright."

 

"I have medicine," Tauriel argued, "real medicine. Different kinds, one to settle your belly, one for the tremors, one for the pain, sedatives and rehydration salts and even one for fever that Idhrenion sometimes says happens with withdrawal."

 

Thranduil eased himself on one elbow and out of Tauriel's lap, "we can't afford me getting ill at this point. I can delay symptoms for at least seven days if I take only a little of the mead every day."

 

"A little? Can you do that?" The elleth was no way convinced. He would be more likely to drink it all in a oner, but then again, it would be gone sooner at least.

 

The older elf reached for the sack himself and as if knowing exactly where the flask inside it was, pulled it out fluidly and swiftly. "I would offer you some, but then it won't last as long," he took a long swig, closing his eyes and visibly calming when he got it away from his mouth. He pulled himself over a little so he could lean on the side of the wagon as he sat, put the cork in and threw the decanter at Tauriel. "Now put it away and don't give it to me till tomorrow night."

 

The redhead did reluctantly as she was told, the item went in her hipbag. "I thought you decided to stop drinking," she commented. Her tone didn't go as far as insolent, but favourable it wasn't either.

 

Thranduil gave a minute shrug, barely noticeable in the darkness of their shelter. If his hair wasn't light blond and didn't glint as it moved, she wouldn't have known he made the movement. "So far, I had no reason for happiness."

 

"One step to happiness would be not having stomach cramps, how about that?" She eyed him rubbing his belly.

 

The older elf leaned his head back and sighed, "let it be, Tauriel…" 

 

The former guard bit the inside of her bottom lip, regarding him and contemplating. Then on a whim and without it being requested, slid across the floor and sat close by him, with her back to the wall like he did and leaned over silently to slide her hand under his and take over rubbing. Thranduil tensed for the smallest fraction of time at the unsolicited touch, then relaxed, giving himself over to whatever ministrations she had planned.

 

Tbc


	15. Bells

Chapter 15: Bells 

 

Thranduil knew it was noise that woke him, but at first, wasn't sure what it was. He was lying on the hard ground with a blanket both under and over him that he had the urge to kick off himself. There seemed to be more torches lit close by and the light didn't favour the who knows what stains on his impromptu bedding. The king gathered himself to his feet with disgust and breathed through the rising nausea that somehow seemed easier to quell in the cleanliness of his royal quarters. Finally he spat and braced himself on the side of the wagon to stagger out and find out what all that annoying laughter was about.

 

To his chagrin, it looked like Tauriel was once again in the middle of being worshipped by a bunch of dwarves that gathered around her. Thranduil sighed and rolled his eyes, then willed himself to amble over and demand the other elf to be extricated out of the circle, given that by the looks of it, their transport, a shoddy wagon missing slates in some areas, had in fact arrived as promised and the quicker they could shake the dwarves, the better. “A word, please Tauriel,” he half turned a disgusted wince into a smile and waved a hand in her direction. What he didn't expect in his disguise was to be recognised. 

 

“You didn't say you were travelling with your king,” one of the dwarves turned to whisper confidentially, leaning close to the elleth, but the sound was no match for Thranduil's elven ears. 

 

“We mean no ill,” Tauriel assured, “we're only trying to find the prince, Balin. Have you seen him?”

 

“I have not seen him, but the roads are busy like I've never seen. All creatures of Middle-earth wander out more since the forces of darkness have lost that battle, be that at a great price,” he admitted, putting a hand on Tauriel's arm as a sign of comfort and fellow feeling.

 

“He might be far by now. Would you mind giving us the rundown on how to work this contraption?” She urged. Glad as she was to see some old friends, now that Thranduil was awake, it was best leaving potential conflicts behind.

 

“Of course,” Gloin volunteered immediately and jumped up to the contrivance in question. You have an easy journey down the way. We will give you a wee push and most of the time the slope will do its work. There is a lever here,” he pointed, “to slow the beast down, but I do not recommend it. You will meet cavedwellers you don't want to have to battle while you're too busy working these other two levers to get the wheels turning faster like we have to do all the way up. Use as little light as possible, you don't want to attract other creatures either. Keep to these principles and you will be in the Ettenmoors by sundown. There will be horses to swap to if you leave the ones you brought behind.”

 

“I can see you have a system all worked out,” Tauriel praised, incredulous and marvelling at the accomplishment of dwarves she never knew of.

 

“All so glad to see you,” Dwalin nodded at her, keeping a head while wanting to join in with the others who took a more physical approach to welcoming her. 

 

Tauriel smiled warmly at them and let Balin and Dori help her up into the wagon. Thranduil didn't have to be told to hurry. He had to gather by now that these were the very same dwarves he once had in his dungeons and all the displayed sentimentality was turning his stomach more than withdrawal symptoms. He gathered their little amount of belongings from their sleeping accommodations quicker than he would've expected from a servant and made towards the group that thankfully parted for the deed.

 

“A little dangerous to travel in this manner is it not?” Dwalin commented in his direction, feeling empowered by the presence of his comrades and their being on his motherland. 

 

“One might call it trespassing,” Balin called to attention, him being the one who spoke up when they faced the elvenking with the occasion of having been thrown into the dungeons in Mirkwood. 

 

Thranduil largely ignored them. Petty comments did not deserve a response, especially not now when his cover was so spectacularly blown. He strolled through the gathering, head held high, or as high as the ceiling allowed. “Oh, mind the overhead on the track!” Gloin offered helpfully. “We ourselves need to watch it at times with low ceilings, you'd better stay sitting down at all times!” He advised. “Good journey!”

 

“Perchance lying down would be better,” Dwalin held, “no part of you should go over the side of the wagon. It might be safer Tauriel,” the dwarf did a perfect ignoring exercise of the elvenking's existence on turn.

 

“But then she would be lying with the king,” Balin offered his disapproval. 

 

“Do I have to pay you for a push to set the waggon into motion?” Thranduil had enough of offered opinions. He could advise Tauriel himself, he had been on the rails before. 

 

The newcomer dwarves gave a collective chortle. “We have coins aplenty of Erebor,” the old dwarf Balin supplied, “but a word that Tauriel would be treated with the utmost respect at all times would suffice.” 

 

“Your concern is misplaced, but I thank you for it,” the elleth addressed them to diffuse the situation. “Is this where I find you, shall I try to visit you?” She volunteered as further peace offering.

 

“Aye, that is,” Balin seemed displeased, “Dain might be the rightful king under the mountain, but he will never be for us,” he explained their distancing from the capital, staying close and not joining his companions who released a lever in front and started pushing the carriage from the back. 

 

“Do not forget to duck, as in, right now,” Dwalin shouted at Tauriel who put a hand up in farewell as the wagon suddenly broke free, not needing any more assistance as it arrived to its first slope. Thranduil reached for her on instinct, not leaving it up to her reflexes and pulled her down, an arm around her as he positioned her against him, down in the safety of the veiling darkness of the bottom of the carriage. 

 

Much room for fully grown elves there wasn't, and the confinement swiftly propelled them into a different world. One moment in the company of frenemies, the next the world consisted only of the two of them in a small wooden box with rushing planks and rock overhead, the other's breath and heartbeat filling their consciousness only, the rattling of the wheels an unreal, deceptive distance away. Tauriel's fingers curled into his cloak involuntarily. She wouldn't think she was frightened, but the locomotion was an unusual, novel experience that filled her with excitation. Or maybe that was the closeness of her king.

 

Tbc


	16. Alien

Chapter 16: Alien

 

Entangled in each other for optimal utilization of space, at first they watched the unusual overhead view the small torch taken with them provided. The rock above did change colour at times, rushing past, sometimes faster, sometimes slower, oftentimes too close for comfort indeed, yet Tauriel felt safe enough bundled in Thranduil's arms. She closed her eyes against the dizzying and surprisingly pictural cavalcade that was the belly of the mountain and her hand searched for purchase instinctively, finding it in the laces of his tunic. The contraption gave a jolt and for a moment, she felt like flying out of it, and she held on tighter. 

 

“It's alright,” Thranduil put his hand on her restless fist as it closed on the fabric, sensing her disquiet, “it is a shade unusual as a way of travel, but we will get to a slower bit soon.”

 

Tauriel looked at him in wonder, “you know quite a lot about these parts of the domain for someone who in the main confines himself to his Halls.”

 

“I wish you've known that world, when elves were bountiful and presided over all the lands, received with kindness and not hostility. When the magic flew warm and easy and that's all you needed for trade. It might still be if Thrain kept his Khazad-dûm stronghold here.”

 

“You had a good relationship with him?” Tauriel's forehead creased in wonderment.

 

“It was in our interest to aid him, just like it is now with Bard, keep Thrain stocked up and here to hold back the Balrog. Of course he had to dishonour the agreement.”

 

Tauriel didn't have to look at him to know he was giving it the eyeroll. “But the memories of this place are largely good, not?” She appeased, hoping to get him back to talking about the pleasant past.

 

“I don't know about that, but they might be useful. I assume most of Durin's Folk nowadays would have no idea of the ancient underground network, at least nowhere near the vastness of it, while as long as memory serves, I'm largely aware of most tunnels, mines, chambers and mansions that run under and throughout the Misty Moutains. I could hide an army here and the dwarves wouldn't even know, Thrain showed me around himself. It was part of his end of the bargain if we provided the magic to run the train.”

 

“The train needs magic to run?”

 

“Not down the way, no, but up the way, those little levers would not do so much without a little help. Though I'd bet beardies and co. aren't aware of how their little locomotion can make it up the mountain so easily.” There was revolt in his voice and considerable disappointment. 

 

“There have been several generations since then,” Tauriel pointed out levelheadedly. “You can't really fault them to pass on all knowledge through word of mouth?”

 

“It's not my fault they don't favour books. Eh, never you mind that,” Thranduil wriggled out from under her and inserted the torch into its conic, metal cover to put it out. “Prepare to be amazed,” he said quietly as the carriage slowed down and there was no more need for loud words. He also raised himself up to peek out at the front, the elleth could just about make it out in the darkness due to the dying flames.

 

“My Lord.” the redhead clang to his tunic wildly, willing him to stay put and not hurt himself.

 

“It's safe, I remembered it well,” the king encouraged her while their means of conveyance came to a near halt. “Just look,” he encircled her to pull her close. 

 

Tauriel came to immediately realise why and how it was that she could still see his outlines even though the torch had been put out. Not on a slope anymore, it was merely the momentum of their previous velocity that was propelling them slowly forward at such a snail's pace that even if they hit their heads on some protruding stone, it would not become an issue. No such things were in the way at any case, she could see that too clearly in the vast cavern, ceiling virtully as far as an arrow shot away, where thousands of shining insects gathered and flutterred and covered the underground hall in a shimmering light of colours, all shades that ranged from white through yellow and red, mingling at places, but most staying with their own flock of baby pink and radiant gold, eye blinding white and warm, inviting red. “Oh,” she managed.

 

“I was hoping they were still gathering here.” A smile was mildly playing round the corners of Thranduil's mouth as he also took pleasure in the sight and Tauriel hoped she wasn't only imagining that. “Get drunk here and you'd think you took more than mere alcohol,” he observed, sounding like he was talking out of personal experience. 

 

“I've seen noctiluci in the forest before, but isolated swarms, not like this,” Tauriel continued to marvel, moving a hand towards one of the little lanterns floating in front of her face. 

 

“You don't want to attract their attention that much,” Thranduil warned, “they might be harmless in the forest, but here their sheer numbers are danger. You wouldn't want to stop here.”

 

Tauriel turned to look at him incredulously, “ you don't mean these are some of the cave dwellers we were warned about?”

 

“If one might prick you, you won't feel it. Have enough of them land on you and inject you with their poison, you'd be paralysed. They need to feed their young with something.”

 

Tauriel ruminated this new knowledge, then decided, “it's still beautiful.” Her eyes stayed raised to the display above. She pressed into her companion a little though, once more on unpremeditated instict, too engulfed in the view to notice her own actions, but it didn't escape the king's attention. The light show was no match to the reflection they played in her eyes. 

 

“You do want to hang on,” Thranduil commented facilely, on such a calm tone that only his fingers tightening round her waist made her realise he meant it as a warning. The youger elf had to stifle a surprised gasp as the smooth journey suddenly turned into what felt like a freefall where due to her unattentivness Thranduil was hanging on for the both of them as the carriage plummeted into a dark hole.

 

Tbc


	17. Lusus Naturae

Chapter 17: Lusus Naturae 

 

The sudden drop ended just as quickly as it started and Tauriel disentagled herself from her king, embarassed about her clinginess. What had gotten into her taking every opportunity for physical touch, solicited or otherwise. They were in darkness, but the uniform and balanced motion of the wagon told her they were still on the tracks as planned and not derailed. On instint, she reached into her side pouch that was attached to her belt for the brimstone to make light, but as soon as she started fumbling, she found Thranduil's long fingers stilling hers and keeping her motionless as he encircled her this time and reached round. Tauriel held her breath and tensed, she could feel his muscles coiling at the ready if needed. The warrior elleth responded correspondingly at whatever perceived threat he was acting on, mentally rehearsing the probable location of every item in the wagon that could be used as a weapon. Thranduil didn't let her move however, his breath stroking her hair and slowly migrating towards her ear. In the general rattle of the wheels, she wasn't even sure he had said something, but she had the impression it sounded like 'grab a shell when you can'.

 

Their travel contrivance was still going fast thanks to the momentum of the previous sudden desent, but as it was slowing. Tauriel became aware of periodic, still quite distant flashes of light making it possible to sometimes see the route ahead. Either that, or her eyes were getting used to the darkness, perhaps both. They were coming to a turn. If at all possible, Thranduil seemed to stiffen some more and the redhead wished the light was enough to see his face and maybe at least give her some sort of indication of what was coming. 

 

And then she forgot all about it. She forgot about everything in fact, including everyone's advice not to raise up above the rim of the wooden side of the wagon even. Or she would've, if she would've not currently been in the king's arms and under his bodily protection. A sudden and threateningly close, white hot streak of what would seem like ignited gas passed just above them, dangerously close, and yet Tauriel did not give it much consideration. Cause the very flame illuminated the entrance of the underground hall their tracks were taking them through, a large cavern higher than allowing her to see its ceiling, with lots of recesses, openings and levels, nooks of which were largely occupied by nesting dragons, groups of eggs and offspring of all colours and sizes, the smallest being no bigger than a dwarf, some flapping wings, some playing in the stream, cosying up to their mothers or trying out how firebreathing went, providing enough light for outstanding visibility, which would include the sight of the two newcomers rolling in. 

 

“Shells.” Thranduil breathed into her ear once more, proving that her senses were right and there was virtually no sound, only the movement of the air tickling while touching her earlobes and suggesting the word. At once it became clear what he had meant. On her side of the tracks, pieces of discarded eggshells lay in sticky piles everywhere, all she had to do was hold a hand out and some would end up in her grasp. Able to follow Thranduil's gaze now that she could see, she grabbed for the biggest piece she could reach that he had his eyes on and bit her lips to hold in the sound of a grunt as she realised how heavy it really was. The king acted quickly noticing her struggles and together they hauled the item in, tilting it in the process, and ending up with being covered in a slimy goo that poured from the bottom of the shell. Tauriel had to assume it was the intended purpose, as Thranduil immediately started to spread the disgusting substance over her arms and up to her neck, while the shell covered the bottom part of their bodies. The elleth frowned, weary, but only one dragon turned in their direction at the movement, gave it one sniff and finding all in order, turned back to licking her little one's scales. The elves could spectate unhindered in the passing, a world of caring and domestic dragons so fantastical and unnreal to experince that Tauriel double checked she had her eyes open. With time, they relaxed into viewing only and when all the tension went out of Thranduil's body, she knew there will be no more dragons by the end of the next turn. 

 

“We are going to stick together if we don't pull apart shortly,” the king warned and tried to disentangle, part of their clothes ripping slightly already when giving way as it turned out that the glaire and secretions from the egg could be very effective as glue indeed. 

 

Tauriel tugged at the fabric and frowned, wishing it wasn't attached to her skin and hair and was somewhat relieved they were more or less sunken in complete darkness once more and the king would not see the state of her. “You can light the torch now,” he commanded right then, “it would be good to determine if the underground river is still nearby.”

 

The younger elf didn't hesitate at the order, but it took her a while to manage to kindle a fire using an arrow and an arrowhead till it gave a spark in the moving vehicle and then it didn't catch, even though she had smeared more brimstone onto the torch. “Maybe if I added some of your homebrew, it would catch easier,” she commented. Tauriel couldn't see him, but she could sense him. She would've bet her life on a smile tugging at his lips at the moment, amusement he did not have to hide out of sight for once. 

 

Her suspicions became more founded when he reached round her again and leaned close to whisper in her ear like before, “all you need is heat.” And heat is what she had when his fingers travelled down her still sticky arms slowly, not minding the filth, his body pressing against hers. She wondered again why he wanted light so badly. Darkness was their companion, their friend, her salvation, providing circumstances where she could lean her head towards him, close her eyes and enjoy an elvenking's touch. Her breathing deepened and hitched repeatedly, regardless that maybe all he was doing was finding a trail to the instruments of making fire. Yet when he reached the implements, he didn't take them from her. At the one hand it would've surprised her if he did. Lighting a fire was no task fit for a king, but having her in his arms and in between himself and the arrowhead and shaft was no efficient way of lighting one. 

 

Thranduil slid his hands under the heels of hers and took hold of them firmly there, then started a vigorous shaking and vibrating motion that effectively rubbed the two items in her hands together. His arms were strong and steady for the moment, no trace of his lately often present frailty or tremor, though their force was conveyed with a careful grip. They moved together, panting and intent, her back to his belly, his lips by her ear. Tauriel realised she needed to be held. At this moment in time, heart beating fast with exertion and excitement, it felt like she could've in fact collapse in weakness. She always knew there was something between them, some static energy that could not be explained, a play of twisting magnets that sometimes pulled together, sometimes pushed apart. All those looks, that special attention from him that propelled a flower of the forest to enter and advance in the guard, it would make sense if there was more to it than the commonplace relations between master and servant. It manifested in the physical, she felt it with every fibre of her being and there was no doubt about what that hardening pole was either that pressed into her hip, but that vibrating energy could only manifest physically because it went way beyond that, to a connection that had always made it possible to speak her mind with him and treat him more as an equal, rather than a ruler. 

 

The realization scared her. It scared her immensely. An elf she knew practically all her life, since she was found in the forest as a young orphan, an elf she had always felt strongly about, to protect, to hate, to prove herself to, to challenge. Like an other half that made her strive for doing good, fulfilling a purpose, dispute their morality. Which is what a soulmate would do, which is what a soulmate would feel like. She shook her head, panicking, and attepted to still the motions and when he continued she felt the need to withdraw her hands with force, turn and push him away as much as the limited space allowed. Their last effort was fruitful however, a spark did materialise and the torch was made flammable enough previously for just the one small, fiery scrap of ignition to do its job. They found themselves looking into each other's startled eyes where the flames reflected, Thranduil grabbing for her on instinct once more to stop her from getting too far and in the way of the everdangerous ceiling. His touch was firm and grounding, his gaze calming and reassuring, with an insecure and unusual blink Tauriel didn't know where to put. She didn't know where to put a lot of things lately. 

 

Thranduil looked around their surroundings, “we'll deal with this later,” he assured, though he did not specify what that 'this' was. Did he have similar thoughts to hers or did he just get into her mind? The king was all action however. He pulled the lever hard enough to bring it to a halt fairly abruptly, then grabbed the torch and jumped out the waggon. “This way,” he ducked under an arch to follow the sound of water, now more noticeable without the rattling of the wheels. 

 

Tauriel found it a little hard to keep up with him, only hoping they wouldn't venture far enough not to find their way back and rushed to catch up without looking much. When she reached the cavern Thranduil had disappeared into, he was already lighting up other torches set round the walls. “Who's inhabited territory are we in now?” She wondered out loud, glossing over and starting to get used to the fact that the king was yet again engaged in such mundane tasks. 

 

“The Fay,” Thranduil provided confidently. “But I doubt anybody used this place regularly since the First Age,” he provided and started undressing without care, dropping his clothes behind him. 

 

“It looks ice cold,” Tauriel warned. The body of water in front of them moved slowly, barely, the underground river obviously coming to some sort of impasse that made it gather into a dark pool.

 

“I might need cold at this moment in time,” Thranduil disclosed mysteriously, but lowered himself slowly, as if not sure himself, while the redhead froze on spot for a moment before turning and trying to get her mind to unsee the lean and illuminatingly white and perfect body she had just seen half disappearing under the water line. She took a strenghtening breath and opened her eyes to stare at the walls, but all her mind's eye could see was his manhood straining for attention, still half erect from their previous undertakings. “Are you...are you covered?” She panted. 

 

“I was hoping this would be one of the places the hot springs filter in,” he established, disregarding her question, “it cannot be far, as all in all, it's quite pleasant in here. Join me Tauriel,” he demanded.

 

Tbc


	18. Plunge

Chapter 18: Plunge

 

Tauriel pulled her own clothes off without much hesitation. She was glad to get rid of the sticky and smelly lizard excretions and otherwise not much bothered about Thranduil seeing her in the nude as she was not shy, nor prude. It was only the king's naked closeness that made her very nervous and self-conscious as she entered the water, immersed in it to the shoulders and followed his instuctions of standing close by at the edge like him so her feet still had purchase. While she was glad to occupy herself with scrubbing herself clean for not having to look at him, that also had the drawback of being done with the task pretty quick. Purposefully avering his eyes, it was only her sixth sense that was aware that he on the other hand, did not take his eyes off her for one moment. 

 

“Now I would like you to wash me.” Thranduil stated on an imperatorial voice, that was to all appearances distant and impassive. The voice he regualrly used for everyday commands if he wasn't too irritated with the world to hide his annoyance. 

 

Tauriel's mouth opened in bafflement. Although used to his servants doing mostly everything for him, being washed down wasn't something he would customarily request. And how could he ask her such a thing right at this moment out of all times, when this invisible, but palpable energy was still charging the air between them, around them. Despite his tone, she was quite sure that charge didn't go out of his body the same way as it didn't go out of hers. The redhead took a deeper, fortifying breath before complying and stopped in front of him to douse his higher shoulders the water didn't reach with the amount of liquid her held together palms could supply. Still not meeting his eyes, she smoothed over his collarbones and brought both her hands to his chest where she rubbed at some crusts of an eggshell to remove it. The younger elf tried remain concentrated on her task and keep any wayward or pleasurable thought to herself. She had touched him before on many occasions after all, soothed his belly with her rubs if needed. Tauriel went on blank mode, as if controlled by an outside source, mechanically scrubbing his back, pouring water on his hair, forcing herself to be detached for her own protection. She was quite sure she was done and was ready to pull back and take care of their clothes when his hand caught her wrist. 

 

“You never washed me lower,” he observed, quircking one eyebrow and tilting his head slightly. 

 

Tauriel's mouth opened again, but she decided not to argue with him. With the rest of him being under water, it was quite unnecessary to scrub, the gently flowing water took care of all grime. She nodded and touched his chest hesitantly again, just to find purchase and familiar territory before her hands went lower, to that abdomen she also knew well. The elleth ghosted over the body part, finding it clean to the touch indeed, if not somewhat tense. “Is your stomach alright?” She checked instictively, habitually with him and asking him she looked up per usual without thinking to find him staring, drinking her in, lips parted, eyes cloudy and desirous. It rooted her to the spot and she stilled, the intensity terrifying her and freezing the breath in her lungs and yet what was most terrifying was that her own loins and body surged to have it dealt with and neutralised in the only way possible-by completion. Tauriel stood overwhealmed and at a loss. She could not be sure if her senses were right about him and even then, he was the elvenking. The only move that would be in her right to make was getting on with her task of washing him. 

 

He raised an arm before her thoughts could turn to action and took the side of her cheek in a palm, eyes boring into hers with an unrelenting ferocity that made her unable to see anything else but those usually cold orbs that came to spellbinding life, full of want and heat and insecure questions that were hesitant to give way to emotion. Tauriel hadn't felt more alive in her entire life, more one with the world, more innately elven and thus connected to another soul to the point of recognition and acceptance. It was happening. That bond between an elven couple that no other could severe that she was told about but never felt and she also knew then, that he was right. She had loved Kili, but with him being a dwarf, this connection, this unspoken and yet naturally understood pledge could never happen. And so it was that it had not surprised her one bit when he surged forward and claimed her lips as his to take. His other hand reached round and pulled her closer, encountering no resistance as she melted into his body.

 

It felt right, it felt unsurpassable, perfect. She wrapped herself round him as tight as possible and gave herself over to the overpowering feeling of belonging. Lean, strong hands held her and they couldn't get enough of each other simply devouring each other's mouths. The energy surge she had previously felt existing between them intensified to a fervency where she doubted she could take it any longer, to be without him, without being taken by him. Tears spilled out her eyes, of bittersweet love and of desperation. No matter this moment, she was still child of the forest Tauriel and he was a Sindar, an elvenking. Her nails dug into his back on their own accord. Closer, she had to have him closer, his long, hot, unruly shaft inside of her her while it was still possible.

 

As if knowing what she wanted, or perhaps being aware of it exactly given their bond, he leaned over to grab hold of her thighs and pulled her up onto and round his hips slowly, aided by the help their relative weightlessness the water provided, at no point throughout disregarding to give licking, sucking attention to her jaw, shoulders and now breasts. He turned and pushed her against the muddy riverbank, making sure they needed another scrubbing after, but it soft enough there for her back not to get bruised when he pushed into her swiftly and without warning, making her cry out in satisfying pleasure. 

 

Thranduil pulled his head back and marvelled at her in her throws of rapture, a smug little smile on his lips, eyes to the brim with gratification. There weren't many things more pleasing than giving fulfilment to a bondmate. He gave a surprised little grunt at that. While he had long found Tauriel interesting in ways he had found no other, he had never anticipated this would happen, that their souls would cry out for each other and find the echo that joined them. In renewed marvel, he drew a hand through her hair and caressed her jaw, prompting her to open her eyes and look at him. “You are mine...” He gasped in wonder, the mad beating of his heart certifying the claim's validity. 

 

“Always...” She replied akind, her eyes trailing downwards to stare at his swollen lips. 

 

“I need you more than you can imagine,” he confessed. The physical need of his aching, straining member inside her of a diminutive importance comparing to the sense that she was perfect to fill the void his late wife has left in his heart. “Tauriel.” He breathed, entranced, as if seeing her for the first time. “Be mine.” 

 

The elleth's eyes went wide, her own carnal desires momentarily on the backburner as well. “What do you mean by that?” She pushed back a little, pulling dripping hair out her face so she could have a proper look at his expression.

 

“I can't do this without you. This pointless existence, struggles to keep afloat, not drown in drink, everything.”

 

“I am with you. And I promise to be with you and support you every step of the way,” she assured, sobering considerably. “Isn't that what I had been doing the last few months?”

 

“I need you closer Tauriel, I need you to complete me like you are at this very moment. Howbeit all the time.”

 

The ex captain had the strange impression that her head was simultaneously crystal clear and muddled. “I...this bond that came into existence...it tells me...” She furrowed her brows, somewhat perplexed, “it tells me I cannot be wrong, that I know what you mean, that I will always know what you mean from now on, but what it's saying...it cannot be...?”

 

Thranduil smiled at her innocent hesitation and unsure knowledge of what a connection like this between two souls did, “you shall learn to trust our bond, velethril nin. What is it telling you then?”

 

“That you want me fully as I am.” A little incredulous note filtered into her voice, “but...surely, I shouldn't even voice such a thing you're suggesting? How could it be?”

 

“I shall say it then, deil. Ni mestathog?”

 

Tauriel tried to look away, to think, to clear her head, for room to get flustered and embarrassed, but she found that she was unable to unlock eyes with him, as if under a spell. She could only shake her head a little and swallow, “but the court...”

 

“The court is made of wise old elves, enlightened enough not to argue with a union that manifested naturally. And that is before I mention I am King. Ni mestathog?” He repeated.

 

The elleth felt as if in the twilight zone, yet his emotions that reached her were clear, good-natured and deliberately comforting, reaching her in waves that with each lap they reassured her and made her dismiss doubts and consequences and second thoughts. It was only the here and now. “Gi mestathon,” she promised, offering body and fae. 

 

It was only then, that his hips moved, thrusting forward slowly and sensually, as if her response would've given him permission. While his mind might've been occupied otherwise in the moments that led up to this one, his erection never forgot its purpose and desire, swelling further at his semi-conscious decision to proceed to claim her. He never broke eye contact as he slid his member in and out leisurely, savouring every sensation her tight, slick pussy provided. His lower abdomen tightened with a need to advance forward and unite with her as deeply and fully as possible and her hips purportedly took the same stance, with her too rapt and swept away by need for conscious thought or any other wish than making her body become one with his, the same as their souls united earlier. She pressed to him, legs shaking with want, fingers digging into his shoulders so she could feel him closer. 

 

His hands fingered her wonderful curves, her arms and breasts and hips and sides languorously, searchingly, exploring, then all of a sudden, his breathing sped up and an overpowering urgency took hold of him. “This...is...your first time.” He managed to gasp, half intending it as a question, but knowing the answer already. 

 

Her eyes glazed over in anticipation, “take me Thranduil,” she panted amorously and encouraging, somewhat impatient, his given name flowing naturally off her lips. 

 

Without further warning, he slammed into her forcefully, assertively, leaving no doubt of who was in charge, despite the consideration he gave her by probing her for a reaction, keeping tabs on her well-being and contentment. Not that it proved to be something to be worried about-as she let the air out her lungs, her fingers dug into him harder and she pulled him to her, forcing him to break eye contact at last. Their union deepened, with no more obstacles in the way any more of impending completion. Their moans echoing in the cavern, the shadow of two beings finally becoming one reflected in the light of torch on the rocks behind them, water washing away all inhibitions in a place where they could be and act like what they essentially were, lost and doomed without the most natural connection an ellon and an elleth was destined to have and depend on. As long as they lived, they would never be lost again.

 

Tbc

 

Glossary:

velethril nin – my love

deil – beautiful

Ni mestathog - Will you marry me

Gi mestathon – I will marry you


	19. My Heart In Your Hands

Chapter 19: My Heart in Your Hands

 

If elves would've felt cold the same way as other beings of Middle Earth, Tauriel would've been quite uncomfortable by now. While the water wasn't freezing, recent inactivity, their nakedness and their bodies' natural predisposition to cool themselves down after vigorous exercise has nevertheless encouraged them to abandon the scene of their lovemaking and ease themselves out onto the dry riverbank and cosy together by the flame of the lit torches, her head on his shoulder and her mind largely absent, taking comfort in the carefree togetherness the cave's remote location allowed and in her unlikely position in the arms of Mirkwood's most powerful elf that only days ago she would've never dared to dream of, consciously stamping out every stray thought that took her in the direction of considering Thranduil more than her king and ruler. Think about it she still did not want, what had perspired was too unreal and fantastical. Despite feeling his heart beat under her palm to the same rhythm as hers and palpable goodwill emanate from his being to engulf her, Tauriel still felt a little unsure about his verbatim and fleshed out intentions in bringing their union to fruition as king and queen and then, her own suitability at a place by his side. No matter how whole it felt to be with him, she was sure it would take a while for her mind to catch up with her body and soul. 

 

Trembling and overstrung ripples going through the edges of her fae, Thranduil pulled himself out of his own reverie at the sensation and sighed. He also did not want to face reality and the practicalities of getting the outside world in tune with their union. Stalling, he brushed the hair out of her eyes and and stroked her jaw, his fingers effectively prompting her to raise her gaze at him. “Ci bain sui i in elin,” he verbalized the feeling that took over his senses.

 

“Nîn melog?” She marvelled with a fair amount of incredulity still, despite what every fibre of him was telling her through their connection that no living soul could sever now.

 

“Gerog i chûn nîn mi i chaim gîn,” he confirmed, voice indulgent and reverent.

 

“How? When did that happen?” She fixed wide, intent eyes at him.

 

“When I let it through the barrier of my heart. Some part of me knew it was there, demanding entrance for many years, but I could not let emotions get the better of me. That was the only way I knew how to function, rule and lead and keep a level head. And then you threatened my barriers with accusations in the middle of a battle when we were losing hundreds of our own kind, Legolas left and you reminded me of what grief felt like and there was no way I could keep from feeling it too.”

 

“It was my fault then, your drinking, your mental state, everything,” Tauriel came to the realization, panicking. “I'm so sorry, My Lord,” she pulled back, attempting to disentangle in her mortification. 

 

“I do not blame you,” Thranduil took hold of her arms so forcefully in his need to make her understand that it bordered hurting, “it happened and I am glad for it. There's no longer this unbearable, huge hole in my heart for you fill it and complement it.”

 

Tauriel swallowed, tears misting her eyes nevertheless, “I shouldn't have accused you so at any case. I knew nothing and was unfair in my assumptions. That you have no love in you is such a preposterous accusation,” she recoiled at her own words and shook her head, “forgive me, My Lord,” she bowed her head. 

 

“Hey, none of this 'My Lord' falderol,” he used his fingertips to tilt her head back up at him once again for a chaste kiss she shyly didn't respond to, “you are my bride, the future queen, of no hokum dwarves.” He was probably a little peeved still that that could have happened. “But the elvenqueen.”

 

Renewed, she jumped back as if bitten, “Legolas,” she uttered panicky, reason coming back to her bit by bit as she emerged slowly from the cloud nine their lovemaking created, emotions and their togetherness so strong, nothing else mattered or interfered for a while, “what about Legolas! What have we done!” She tried to catch her breath, knowing fine well their bond was irrevocable. 

 

Thranduil pulled back too at that. Not that he hadn't thought about it, but having it verbalised was rather sobering and conversely, he needed a drink. “We aren't continuing with the journey to find Legolas,” he established, “I can't say it would be wise or beneficial for either party under the circumstances. It's not like it changes anything between the two of you at any case, you weren't going to bond.”

 

“And you're all right with not going to find him,” she summarised the strange calmness of how she sensed he felt about it.

 

“I have you, don't I?” He rolled to an elbow to lead her in for a deep, honeyed kiss, interrupted by his awareness of her needing an answer, “we need to give him time to find out about the developments on his own and come to terms with it.”

 

“That, might take a while,” Tauriel humphed. 

 

“It might not be pretty, but when it comes right down to it, Legolas will always be the heir to the throne and he will not deny his responsibilities to his race and will honour his duties,” Thranduil held, “of that, I am certain.”

 

A shiver went through the elleth at his words, “you hint at me losing you when I just got you.” Her eyes took him in, her hands claimed his body, holding him against her. 

 

“That is no plan of mine,” he assured her.

 

“You're sure you'll be well?” She persisted, “we left Mirkwood for a reason after all, something that was vital to your well-being.”

 

Impish creases curved the corners of his mouth, “what if I told you that my belly didn't hurt as many times and as badly as I let you believe?”

 

Tauriel stared at him as if uncomprehending, then her mouth opened to hang before seeing red overcame all other predispositions. She pulled away and sat up, her arms going to hug herself and hinder his view of her naked body, “how much of it was show? You were physically sick and your belly churned, that cannot be make-believe? And why would you do such a thing?” The elleth tried to argue in his favour and quell her anger towards him herself. Not because he was the king and her a mere servant or guard, but because she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

 

“I was ill,” he confirmed, “I was the slave of alcohol, of slump, anything to get my mind empty and my stomach settled with the next dose and it wasn't working, neither part. But then you came along,” he drew a hand up her legs and thighs, where he could still reach and looked up at her reverently, “and you pulled me out of it. It was a new drug I became dependent on and back then, I didn't know if you'd reciprocate. Can't blame an old elf for getting his comforts any way he can,” he intoned, while his eyes conversely twinkled with youthful mischief. 

 

Tauriel mellowed a little at his explanation, somewhat relieved that maybe he wasn't as afflicted as she had thought. She still looked at him suspiciously though, “so...” She glanced in the direction of their discarded possessions where the flaskful of brew lay under her leggings. “You think you really could make it without much ill effects at the end of that flask?”

 

Thranduil pulled closer to her, “you don't have to worry, I promise.”

 

“That is if we are even going any further. We could be back in the Halls in a few days,” she summarised.

 

Thranduil took her hands in his, “no. I think I want to show you the world first.”

 

The End

 

Glossary:

Ci bain sui i Anor/in elin - You are beautiful as the stars

Nîn melog? - You love me?

Gerog i chûn nîn mi i chaim gîn - You hold my heart in your hands


End file.
